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BOHK'S EXTRA VOLUME. 



COUNT GEAMMOKT'S MEMOIKS 



COUllT OF CHAIILES THE SECOND, 



T1]E BOSCOBEL NARIIATIVES. 



nOIIN'S KXTHA VOI.IIM!:. 

'I'm: i>ul)lishcr, cloubtiii- the propriety of iiulridin- Count 
(iraniinont'd Memoirs in liis " Standard Library," thinks it 
expedient to print tlieni (and at intervals pcrliaps other 
works), in a separate series, nnder the above title. Tlie 
bindin.LT is of a dilTercnt colour to mark the distinction. 

The Memoirs of Grammont, althou^i^rh universally admitted 
to be amon<r the most witty and entertaining that have ever 
been written ; described by Gibbon as " a classic work, the 
<loligiit of every man and woman of taste;" praised and 
edited by Sir AValter Scott; printed in almost every lan- 
guage and every form; and found in every good historical 
library ; arc, it must be confessed, too much embued with the 
leaven of Charles the Second's days to suit the severer code 
of the present age. The book, however, is full of curious 
historical infoiination, and must always be a standard- 
library work, under whatever denomination it may be i)re- 
>ented ; and the prudish reasons which should keep it inacces- 
sible to the great mass of readers, would be equally applicable 
to nearly all the writers of the Charles-thc-Second i)eriod, 
including Pepys ; as well as to Ariosto, Fontaine, Beaumont 
and Fletcher, Ma.ssinger, Ford, Byron, and even Shakspeare 
and Poj»e. 

Hut the publisher feels that the subscribers to his " Standard 
Library," after having been led on by such samples of his in- 
:-ntions as the works of Robert Hall, Roscoc, Schlegel, and 
Sismondi, with the prospect of others ot the same sterling 
character, have a right to count upon his not altering the 
tone of that series by including any thing whicli may not 
nnhcsitatlngly be put into the hands of the most fastidious; 
ind thoy have some evidence of his wish to deserve such 
con6dencc !)y t!ic course now piu-.sned. 



MEMOIRS 

OP THE 4 

COURT OP CHAELES THE SECOND, 

BY 

COUNT GRAMMONT, 

WITH NUMEROUS ADDITIONS AND ILLUSTRATIONS, AS EDITED BY 

SIR WALTEE SCOTT. 

ALSO: 

THE PERSOXAX. HISTORY OF CHARXiES, 

IlfCLUDIXG 

THE KING'S OWN ACCOUNT OF HIS ESCAPE AND PEESERVATION 
AFTER THE BATTLE OF WORCESTER, AS DICTATED TO PEPYS. 



THE BOSCOBEI. TRACTS; 

OR, CONTEMPORARY NARRATHrES OP HIS MAJESTY'S ADVENTURES, 
FROM THE MURDER OF HIS FATHER TO THE RESTORATION. 



CAREFULLY EDITED, 
WITH ADDITIONAL ILLUSTRATIONS. 



/" LONDOJN": 
HENEY a. BOHN, YOEK STREET, COVENT GARDEIS', 

1859. 




J^', 






ADVERTISEMENT. 



The justly acquired popularity of the Memoirs of 
Count Grammont, " which paint the chief characters 
of the court of Charles the Second with an easy and 
exquisite pencil,'' renders it unnecessary for the publisher 
to say any thing concerning their intrinsic value. 

The present edition contains the entire work as revised 
by Sir Walter Scott, in 1811, with all the notes ; and, 
in addition, a considerable number of illustrative anec- 
dotes, gleaned from the most authentic sources. 

The Personal History of Charles the Second 
has been compiled wdth care from all previous authori- 
ties, and presents, it is believed, in a small compass, the 
most complete picture of the merry monarch in disha- 
bille, yet given to the public. 

The King's Account of his Escape after the 
Battle of Worcester, as dictated by himself to 
Pepys, is one of the most romantic pieces of English 
history we possess. It was first published by Sir David 
Dalrymple, in 1766, as the King's, on the authority of 
the Pepys manuscripts;, preserved in Magdalen Col- 
lege, Cambridge. The minute and personal character of 
the narrative, its lively and careless style, and the col- 
lation of it with other accounts, concur in proving it 



VI 



ADVKHTISKMENT. 



unqi>ostu)nal>l,v genuine. The remarks subjoined are by 
Mr. p.pys nnd inclu.le many corrections and additions 
subseqt,ently obta.ned from the King, Father Huddle- 
stone, and Colonel Philips. The.se are inserted in the 
form of notes, and are respectively distinguished by the 
untial letters of K, P H, and Ph. ^ 

The so-called " Boscobkl Tkacts'' are contempo- 
rary narratives written in the quaint languac^e of i,e 
t.me, by Thomas Blount, author of the '^ F^-agmenta 
AnnquUars, or Ancent Tenures of Land, and various 
other ^wks. Asthey give curious variations and highly 
.nterestmg add.fons to the King's own narrative, and 
are, to use the words of the Retrospective Review, " now 
.-.mong the most scarce and highly prized historical 
•.amphlets of the seventeenth century," it has been thouaht 
desirable to conjoin them. '' 

The publisher permits himself to observe, that the 
matter now presented in a single volume, could not, in 
any other shape, be procured for twenty times its pre- 
sent price. ^ 



H. G. B. 

York Streit, June \, 181^, 



A 
BIOGEAPHICAL SKETCH 

OF 

ANTHONY HAMILTON, 

AUTHOR OP 

THE GRAMMONT MEMOIRS. 



A 
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 

OP 

ANTHONY HAMILTON. 



Op- Anthony Hamilton, the celebrated author of the Gram- 
mont* Memoirs, much cannot now be with certainty known. 
The accounts prefixed to the different editions of his works, 
down to the year, 1805, are very imperfect : in that year, L 
new, and, in general, far better edition than any of the pre- 
ceding ones, was published in Paris, to which a sketch of his 
life was also added ; but it contains rather just criticisms on 
his works, than any very novel or satisfactory anecdote con- 
cerning himself. It is not pretended here to gratify literary 
curiosity as fully as it ought to be, with regard to this singular 
and very ingenious man : at the distance of almost ninety 
years (for so long is it since he died), this is scarcely possible ; 
some effort, however, may be made to communicate a few 
more particulars relative to him, than the public has hitherto, 
perhaps, been acquainted with. 

Anthony Hamilton was of the noble family of that name: 
Sir George Hamilton, his father, was a younger son of James' 

* For uniformity's sake, the writer of this sketch has followed the Me- 
moirs m the spelhng of this name; but he thinks it necessary to obserye, 
that It should be Gramont, not Grammont. 

B 2 



4 BIOGRAPHICAL SKKTCII OP 

Earl of Abcrcorn, a native of Scotland. His mother was 
daughter of Lord Thurles, and sister to James, the first duke 
of Ormond ; his family and connexions, therefore, on the 
maternal side, were entirely Irish. lie was, as well as his 
brothers and sisters, born in Ireland, it is generally said, about 
the year 1G4G ; but there is some reason to imagine that it was 
three or four years earlier. The place of his birth, according 
to the best family accounts, was Roscrea, in the county of 
Tipperary, the usual residence of his father, when not engaged 
by military or public business.'*^' It has been always said, 
that the family migrated to France when Anthony was an 
infant ; but this is not the fact : " Sir George Hamilton,'* says 
Carte, " would have accompanied his brother-in-law, the 
Marquis of Ormond, to France, in December, 1G50 ; but as 
he was receiver-general in Ireland, he staid to pass his accounts, 
which he did, to the satisfaction of all parties, notwithstanding 
much clamour had been raised against him." When that busi- 
ness was settled, he, in the spring of 1651, took Lady Hamilton 
and all his family to France, and resided with Lord and Lady 
Ormond, near Caen, in Normandy,+ in great poverty and 
distress, till the Marchioness of Ormond, a lady whose mind 
was a5 exalted as her birth, went over to England, and, after 
much solicitation, obtained two thousand pounds a year from 
her own and her husband's different estates in Ireland. This 
favour was granted her by Cromwell, who always professed 

* In September, 1646, Owen 0*Neale took Roscrea, and, as Carte says, 
** put man, woman, and child to the sword, except Si?^ George Hamilton^' 
larhf, sister to the Marquis of Ormond, and some few gentlewomen whom 
he kopt prisoners." No family suffered more, in those disastrous times 
than the house of Ormond. Lady Hamilton died in August, 1680, as ap- 
pears from an interesting and affecting letter of her brother, the Duke of 
Ormond, dated Carrick, August 25th. He had lost his noble son, Lord 
Ossory, not three weeks before. 

t Hence possibly Voltaire's mistake, in stating that Hamilton was born 
nt Caen, in hi? Catalogue dcs Ecrivains du Siccle de Louis XIV. 



ANTHONY HAMILTON. 5 

the greatest respect for lier. The Marchioness resided in 
Ireland, with the younger part of her family, from 1655 till 
after the Restoration; while the Marquis of Orm.ond con- 
tinued for a considerable part of that period with his two 
sisters, Lady Clancarty and Lady Hamilton, at the Feullatines, 
in the Fauxbourg St. Jacques, in Paris. 

It appears from a letter of the marquis to Sir Robert South- 
well, that, although he himself was educated in the Protestant 
religion, not only his father and mother, but all his brothers and 
sisters, were bred, and always continued Roman Catholics. Sir 
George Hamilton also, according to Carte,'"* was a Roman 
Catholic ; Anthony, therefore, was bred in the religion of his 
family, and conscientiously adhered to it through life. He 
entered early into the army of Louis XI Y., as did his brothers, 
George, Richard, and John, the former of whom introduced 
the company of English gens-d'armes into France, in 166T, 
according to Le Pere Daniel, author of the History of the 
French Army, who adds the following short account of its 
establishment : Charles II., being restored to his throne, 
brought over to England several Catholic officers and soldiers, 
who had served abroad with him and his brother, the Duke of 
York, and incorporated them with his guards ; but the parlia- 
ment having obliged him to dismiss all officers who were 
Catholics, the king permitted George Hamilton to take such 
as were willing to accompany him to France, where Louis 
XI Y. formed them into a company of gens-d'armes, and being 
Iiighly pleased with them, became himself their captain, and 
made George Hamilton their captain-lieutenant. t Whether 
Anthony belonged to this corps, I know not ; but this is cer- 

'^ That historian states, that the king (Charles I.) deprived several 
papisto- of vheir military commissions, and, among others, Sir George 
Hamilton, who, notwithstanding, served him with loyalty and unvarying 
iidelity. 

t They were composed of English, Scotch, and Irish. 



6 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF 

:iin, that he distinguished himself particuLirly in his profession, 
and was advanced to considerable posts in the French ser- 
vice.* 

Anthony Hamilton's residence was now almost constantly 

:i France. Some years previous to this, he had been much 
ill England, and, towards the close of Charles II/s reign, in 
Ireland, where so many of his connexions remained.f "When 
James II. succeeded to the throne, the door being then opened - 
to the Roman Catholics, he entered into the Irish army, where 
we find him, in 1G86, a lieutenant-colonel in Sir Thomas New- 
comen's regiment. That he did not immediately hold a higher 
rank there, may, perhaps, be attributed to the recent accession 
of the king, his general absence from Ireland, the advanced 
age of his uncle, the Duke of Ormond, and, more than all, 

crhaps, to his Grace's early disapprobation of James's conduct 
in Ireland, which displayed itself more fully afterwards, <?spe- 
cially in the ecclesiastical promotions. 

Henry, Earl of Clarendon, son to the lord-chancellor, was 
at that time lord-lieutenant of Ireland, and appears, notwith- 
standing his general distrust and dislike of the Catholics, to 
have held Anthony Hamilton in much estimation : he speaks 
of his knowledge of, and constant attention to, the duties of 
his profession ; his probity, and the dependence that was to 
be placed on him, in preference to others of the same religious 

)crsuasion, and, in October, 1G8G, wrote to the Earl of Sun- 
derland respecting him, as follows : "I have only this one 
'hing more to trouble your lordship with at present, concerning 

'oloncl Anthony Hamilton, to get him a commission to com- 

* It is not to be forgotten, that, at this time, John Churchill, after- 

ards Duke of Marlborough, served under Marshal Turenne, in the same 

rmy. 

t HamiUon had three sisters : the Countess of Grammont ; another 
married to Matthew Forde, Esq., of the county of Wexford ; and another 
to Sir Donough O'Brien, ancestor to tlie present Sir Edward O'Brien — 

branch of the Tliomond family. 



AKTHONY HAMILTON 7 

mand as colonel, though lie is but lieutenant-colonel to Sir 
Thomas Newcomen, in regard of the commands Tie has had 
ahroad : and I am told it is often done in France, which 
makes me hope it will not be counted an unreasonable 
request. I would likewise humbly recommend to make Colo- 
nel Anthony Hamilton a privy counsellor here."* Lord 
Clarendon's recommendations were ultimately successful: 
Hamilton was made a privy counsellor in Ireland, and had a 
pension of 200Z. a year on the Irish establishment ; and was 
appointed governor of Limerick, in the room of Sir William 
King, notwithstanding he had strongly opposed the new-mo- 
delling of the army by the furious Tyrconnell. In the brief 
accounts which have been given of his life, it is said that he 
had a regiment of infantry ; but, though this is very probable, 
there is no mention whatever of his commanding a regiment, 
in the lists published of King James's army, which are sup>- 
posed to be very accurate : he is indeed set down among the 
general officers. Lord Clarendon, in one of his letters to the 
lord -treasurer, states, " That the news of the day was, that 
Colonel Russell was to be lieutenant-colonel to the Duke of 
Ormond's regiment, and that Colonel Anthony Hamilton was 
to have Russell's regiment, and that Mr. I^uttrell was to be lieu- 
tenant-colonel to Sir Thomas Newcomen, in the place of 
Anthony Hamilton."! 

It is not known whether Anthony was present at the battle 
of the Boyne, or of Aughrim : his brother John was killed at 
the latter ; and Richard, who was a lieutenant-general, led on 
the cavalry with uncommon gallantry and spirit at the Boyne ; 
it is to be wished that his candour and integrity had equalled 
his courage; but he acted with great duplicity; and King 
"William's contemptuous echoing back his word to him, when 

* Chapel-Izod, July 11, 1686. 

t Dublin Castle, October 23, 1686, 



S BIOGIJAPIIICAL SKETCH OF 

he declared something on his honour^ is well known.'"* He is 
frequently mentioned hy Lord Clarendon, but by no means 
with the same approbation as his brother. After the total 
overthrow of James's affairs in Ireland, the two brothers finally 
quitted these kingdoms, and retired to France. Richard lived 
much with the Cardinal de Bouillon, who was the great pro- 
tector of the Irish in France, and kept (what must have been 
indeed highly consolatory to many an emigrant of condition) 
a magnificent table, which has been recorded in the most glow- 
ing and grateful terms, by that gay companion, and celebrated 
lover of good cheer, Philippe de Coulanges, wdio occasionally 
mentions the "amiable Richard IIamilton,''t as one of the 
Cardinal's particular intimates. Anthony, who w^as regarded 
particularly as a man of letters and elegant talents, resided 
ilmost entirely at St. Germain : solitary walks in the forest of 
that place occupied his leisure hours in the morning ; and 
poetical pursuits, or agreeable society, engaged the evening : 
but much of his time seems to have rolled heavily along ; hi> 
i-tor. Madam de Grammont, living more at court, or in Paris, 
than always suited his inclinations, or his convenience. His 
great resource af St. Germain was the family of the Duke of 
Berwick (son of James II.) : that nobleman appears to have 
been amiable in private life, and his attachment to Hamilton 
vr-as steady and sincere. The Duchess of Berwick was also 
Ills friend. It is necessary to mention this lady particularly, 
as well as her sisters : they were the daughters of Henry 
Bulkely, son to the first viscount of that name : their father 
:id been master of the household to Charles: their mother 
was Lady Sophia Stewart, sister to the beautiful Duchess of 
Richmond, so conspicuous in the Grammont Memoirs. The 
sisters of the Duchess of Berwick were, Charlotte, married to 

* This anecdote lias been erroneously recorded of Anthony, 
t So Coulanges calls him. 



ANTHONY HAMILTON. 9 

Lord Clare r'" Henrietta, and Laura. They all occupy a 
considerable space in Hamilton's correspondence, and the two 
last are the ladies so often addressed as the Mademoiselles B.; 
they are almost the constant subjects of Hamilton s verses; 
and it is recorded, that he was a particular admirer of Hen- 
rietta Bulkely; but their union would have been that of 
hunger and thirst, for both were very poor and very illus- 
trious : their junction would, of course, have militated against 
every rule of common prudence. To the influence of this lady, 
particularly, we are indebted for one or two of Hamilton's 
agreeable novels : she had taste enough to laugh at the extra- 
vagant stories then so much in fashion, " plus Arabes qu'en 
Arabie ''fas Hamilton says; and he, in compliance with her 
taste, and his own, soon put the fashionable tales to flight, by 
the publication of the Quatre Facai^dins^ and, more especially. 
La Fleur d' Epine, Some of the introductory verses to these 
productions are written with peculiar ease and grace; and are 
highly extolled, and even imitated, by Voltaire. La Harpe 
praises the Fleur d'Epine, as the work of an original genius : 
I do not think, however, that they are much relished in Eng- 
land, probably because very ill translated. Another of his 
literary productions was the novel called Le Belier^ which he 
v,-rote on the following occasion : Louis XIY. had presented 
to the Countess of Grammont (whom he highly esteemed) a 
remarkably elegant small country house in the park of Ver- 
sailles : this house became so fashionable a resort, and brought 
such constant visitors, t that the Count de Grammont said, in 

^^ (O'Brien) ancestor to Marshal Tliomond. Lord Clare was killed 
at the battle of Ramillies. 

t They were wretched imitations of some of the Persian and Arabian tales, 
in which every thing was distorted, and rendered absurd and preposterous. 

X " Le bel air de la cour est d'aller alajolie maison, que le roi a donnee 
a la Comtesse de Gramont dansle Pare de Versailles. C'est tellement la 
mode, que c'est une honte de n'y avoir pas ete. La Comtesse de Gra- 
mont se porte tres-bien ; il est certain que le roi la traite a merveiiles. 



10 BIOGRAPHICAL SKI::TC1I OP 

'is usual way, he would present the king with a list of ail the 
persons ho was obliged to entertain there, as more suited to 
Ills Majesty's purse than his own : the countess wished to 
change the name of the place from the vulgar appellation of 
Le MoulineaUy into that of Pentalie; and Hamilton, in his 
novel, wrote a history of a giant, an enchantment, and a prin- 
cess, to commemorate her resolution. It has, however, hap- 
pened, that the giant Moulineau kas had the advantage, in the 
course of time ; for the estate, which is situated near Mendon, 
upon the Seine, retains its original and popular designation. 

About the year 1704, Hamilton turned his attention to 
collecting the memoirs of his brother-in-law, the Count de 
Grammont, as we may conjecture, from the epistle beginning 
" Honneur des rives 61oignees *'"' being written towards the 
close of the above year : it is dated, or supposed to be so, from 
the banks of the Garonne. ^ Among other authors whom Ha- 
milton at first proposes to Grammont, as capable of writing 
his life (though, on reflection, he thinks them not suited to 
it), is Boileau, whose genius he professes to admire ; but adds, 
that his muse has somewhat of malignity ; and that such a 
muse might caress with one hand, and satirize him wdth the 
other. This letter was sent by Hamilton to Boileau, who 
answered him with great politeness ; but, at the same time 
that he highly extolled the epistle to Grammont, he, very 
naturally, seemed anxious to elface any impression which such 
a representation of his satiric vein might make on the Count's 
mind, and accordingly added a few complimentary verses to 
him : this letter is dated Paris, 8th February :3 705. About 
the same time another letter was written to Hamilton on the 

Paris, le 5 Aout, 1703.'* — Let ire de Madame de Coiilanges a Madame 
de Gr if/nan. 

* A translation of this epistle, which is a complete sketch of the 
Grammont Memoirs, is subjoined to this Biographical Sketch of the 
Author. 



ANTHONY HAMILTON. 11 

subject of the epistle to Grammont, by La Chapelle, who also 
seemed desirous tliat bis life should be given to the public, but 
was much perplexed which of the most celebrated ancients to 
compare- the Count to. Maecenas first presented himself to his 
imagination: absurdly enough, in my opinion; for there was not 
a trace of similitude between the two characters. This, how- 
ever, afforded him some opportunity, as he thought, of disco- 
vering a resemblance between Horace and Hamilton, in which 
he equally failed. Petronius is then brought forward, as 
affording some comparison to the Count ; — a man of pleasure, 
giving up the day to sleep, and the night to entertainment; 
but then, adds La Chapelle, it will be suggested, that such is 
the perpetual activity of the Count of Grammont's mind, he 
may be said to sleep neither night no,r day ; and if Petronius 
died, the Count seem? determined never to die at all. (He was 
at this time about eighty- five years of age.) It may well be 
supposed that all this, though now perfectly vapid and unin- 
teresting, was extremely flattering to Grammont ; and the 
result was, that he very much wished to have his life, or part 
of it, at least, given to the public. Hamilton, who had been 
so long connected with him, and with whose agreeable talents 
he was now so familiarized, was, on every account, singled out 
by him as the person Avho could best introduce him historically 
to the public. It is ridiculous to mention Grammont as the 
author of his own memoirs : his excellence, as a man of wit, 
was entirely limited to conversation. Bussy Rabutin, who 
knew him perfectly, states, that he wrote almost worse than 
any one. If this was said, and very truly, of him in his early 
days, it can hardly be imagined that he would, when between 
eighty and ninety years of age, commence a regular, and in 
point of style, most finished composition. Besides, inde- 
pendent of every thing else, what man would so outrage all 
decorum, as to call himself the admiration of the age ? for so is 



12 IJlOGRAPiriCAL SKETCH OF 

Grammoiit extolled in the IMemoirs, with a variety of otiier 
encomiastic expressious ; althougli, perhaps, such vanity has 
not been without example. Hamilton, it is true, says that he 
acts as Grammont's secretary, and only holds the pen, whilst 
the Count dictates to him such particulars of his life as were 
the most singular, and least known. This is said with great 
modesty, and, as to part of the work, perhaps, with great 
truth : it requires, however, some explanation. — Grammont 
was more than twenty years older than Hamilton ; conse- 
quently, the earlier part of his life could only have been 
known, or was best known,, to the latter, from repeated con- 
versations, and the long intimacy which subsisted between 
them. AVhether Grammont formally dictated the events of 
his younger days, or not, is of little consequence : from his 
general character, it is probable that he did not. However, 
die whole account of such adv^eutures as he was engaged in, 
from his leaving home to his interview with Cardinal Maza- 
rine (excepting the character of Monsieur de Senantes, and 
jMatta, who was well known to Hamilton), the relation of the 
siege of Lerida, the description of Gregorio Brice, and the 
inimitable discovery of his own magnificent suit of clothes on 
the ridiculous bridegroom at Abbeville ; all such particulars 
must have been again and again repeated to Hamilton by 
Grammont, and may therefore be fairly grounded on the 
Count's authority. The characters of the court of Charles IL, 
and its history, are to be ascribed to Hamilton : from his resi- 
dence, at various times, in the court of London, his connection 
with the Ormond family, not to mention others, he must have 
been well acquainted with them. Lady Chesterfield, who 
may be regarded almost as the heroine of the work, was his 
cousm-german." But, alchouirh the history altogether was 

* She was Dom at the castle of Kilkenny, July, 1G40, as appears from 
Carte's life of her father, the Duke of Ormond. 



ANTHONY HAMILTON. 13 

written by Hamilton, it may not perhaps be known to every 
reader that Grammont himself sold the manuscript for fifteen 
hundred livres ; and when it was brought to Fontenelle, then 
censor of the press, he refused to license it, from respect to the 
character of the count, which, he thought, was represented as 
that of a gambler, and an unprincipled one too. In fact, 
Grammont, like many an old gentleman, seems to have recol- 
lected the gaieties of his youth with more complaisance than 
was necessary, and has drawn them in pretty strong colours, 
in that part of the work which is more particularly his own. 
He laughed at poor Fontenelle's scruples, and complained to 
the chancellor, who forced the censor to acquiesce : the license 
was granted, and the count put the whole of the money, or 
the best part of it, in his pocket, though he acknov/ledged 
the work to be Hamilton's. This is exactly correspondent to 
his general character : when money was his object, he had 
little, or rather no delicacy. 

The History of Grammont may be considered as an unique : 
there is nothing like it in any language. For drollery, know- 
ledge of the world, various satire, general utility, united with 
great vivacity of composition. Gil Bias is unrivalled : but, as 
a merely agreeable book, the Memoirs of Grammont perhaps 
deserve that character more than any which was ever written : 
it is pleasantry throughout, and pleasantry of the best sort, 
unforced, graceful, and engaging. Some French critic has 
justly observed, that, if any book were to be selected, as afford- 
ing the truest specimen of perfect French gaiety, the Memoirs 
of Grammont would be selected in preference to all others. 
This has a Frenchman said of the work of a foreigner ; but 
that foreigner possessed much genius, had lived from his youtii, 
not only in the best society of France, but with the most sin- 
gular and agreeable man that France couhi pxoduce. Still, 



14 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OP 

however, though Grammontand Hamilton were of dispositions 
very di fie rent, the latter must have possessed talents peculiarly 
brilliant, and admirably adapted to coincide with, and display 
those of liis brother-in-law to the utmost advantage. Gibbon 
extols the '■'ease and purity of Hamilton's inimitable style;" 
and in this he is supported by Yoltaire, although he adds the 
censure, that the Grammont Memoirs are, in point of materials, 
the most trifling ; he might also in truth have said, the most 
improper. The manners of the court of Charles II. were, to 
the utmost, profligate and abandoned ; yet in what colours 
have they been drawn by Hamilton ? The elegance of his 
pencil has rendered them more seductive and dangerous, than 
if it had more faithfully copied the originals. From such a 
mingled mass of grossness of language, and of conduct, one 
would have turned away with disgust and abhorrence; but 
Hamilton was, to use the words of his admirer. Lord Orford, 
" superior to the indelicacy of the court,*' whose vices he haa 
so agreeably depicted ; and that superiority has sheltered such 
vices from more than half the oblivion which would now have 
for ever concealed them. 

The Count de Grammont died in 1707. Some years after 
the publication of his Memoirs, Hamilton was engaged in a 
very different work : he translated Pope's Essay on Criticism 
into French, and, as it should seem, so much to that great 
poet's satisfaction, that he wrote a very polite letter of thanks 
to him, which is inserted in Pope's Correspondence. Hamil- 
ton's Essay was, I believe, never printed, though Pope warmly 
requested to have that permission : the reign of Louis XIV. 
had now ceased ; and, for several years before his death, the 
character of the old court of that prince had ceased also : pro- 
fligacy and gaiety had given way to devotion and austerity. 
Of Hamilton's friends and literary acquaintance few were left ; 



ANTHONY HAMILTON. 15 

the Duke of Berwick was employed in the field, or at Ver- 
sailles : some of the ladies, however, continued at St. Germain : 
and in their society, particularly that of his niece, the Countess 
of Stafford (in whose name he carried on a lively correspond- 
ence with Lady Mary Wortley Montague), he passed much 
of his time. He occasionally indulged in poetical compositions, 
of a style suited to his age and character ; and when he was 
past seventy, he wrote that excellent copy of verses, " Sur 
riTsage de la Vie dans la Vieillesse ; " which, for grace of 
style, justness, and purity of sentiment, does honour to his 
memory. 

Hamilton died at St. Germain, in April, 1720, aged about 
74. His death was pious and resigned. From his poem, en- 
titled " Reflections,"* he appears, like some other authors, to 
have turned his miud, in old age, entirely to those objects of 
sacred regard, which, sooner or later, must engage the atten- 
tion of every rational mind. To poetry he bids an eternal 
adieu, in language which breathes no diminution of genius, at 
the moment that he for ever recedes from the poetical character. 
But he aspired to a better. The following lines are interest- 
ing, for they evidently allude to his own situation ; and, may 
every one, who, from a well-directed, or mistaken, but pure 
and generous zeal, is, througb the course of a long life, assailed 

* Voltaire, upon slight evidence, had imputed to him, at an earlier 
period, sentiments of irreligion similar to his own : — 

Aupres d'eux le vif Hamilton, 
Toujours arme d'un trait qui blesse, 
Medisoit de I'humaine espece, 
Et meme d'un peu mieux, dit-on. 

But whether Voltaire had any better foundation for insinuating this charge 
than the libertine tone of Hamilton's earlier works, joined to his own wish 
to hold up a man of genius as a partisan of bis own opinions, must renrain 
doubtful ; while it is certain that Hamilton, in his latter years, sincerely 
followed the Christian religion. 



I 



IG BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OF 

I)y the temptations of poverty, find that consolation in an inno- 
cence of manners, which Hamilton so well invoked, and, it is 
to be hoped, not altogether in vain : 

Fille (111 ciel, pure Innocence ! 
Asile centre tous nos maux, 
Vrai centre du parfait repos 1 
Heureux celui, dont la Constance, 
Vous conservant dans Tabondance, 
Ne vous perd point, dans les travaux 
D*une longue, et triste indigence ! 

Whatever were Hamilton's errors, his general character was 
respectable. He has been represented as grave, and even dull, 
in society ; the very reverse, in short, of what he appears in 
his Memoirs : but this is probably exaggerated. Unquestion- 
ably he had not the unequalled vivacity of the Count do 
Grammont in conversation ; as Grammont was, on the other 
hand, inferior, in all respects, to Hamilton, when the pen was 
in his hand ; the latter was, however, though reserved in a 
large society, particularly agreeable in a more select one. 
Some of his letters remain, in which he alludes to his want of 
that fticility at impromptu which gave such brilliancy to the 
conversation of some of his brother wits and contemporaries. 
]>ut, while we admit the truth of this, let it be remembered at the 
s.ime time, that when he wrote this, he was by no means young; 
that he criticized his own defects with severity ; that he was 
I)oor, and living in a court which itself subsisted on the alms 
f another. Amidst such circumstances, extemporary gaiety 
cannot always be found. I can suppose, that the Duchess of 
Elaine, who laid claim to the character of a patroness of wit^ 
and, like many who assert such claims, was very troublesome, 
very self-sufRcient, and \Gry ex'igeante^ might not always have 
found that general superiority, or even transient lustre, which 



o 



ANTHONY HAMILTON. 17 

she expected in Hamilton's society : yet, considering the 
great difference of their age and situation, this circumstance 
will not greatly impeach his talents for conversation. But the 
work of real genius must for ever remain ; and of Hamilton's 
genius, the Grammont Memoirs will always continue a beau- 
teous and graceful monument. To that monument may also 
be added, the candour, integrity, and unassuming virtues of 
the amiable author. 



EPISTLE TO THE COUNT DE GRAMMONT, 

BY ANTHONY HAMILTON^ 

In his own and his Brother s Nmn^e* 



O ! Thou, the glory of the shore, 

Where Corisanda f saw the day, 
The blessed abode of Menodore ; 

Thou, whom the fates have doomed to stray 

Far from that pleasant shore away, 
On which the sun, at parting, smiles, 

Ere, gliding o'er the Pyrenees, 

Spain's tawny visages he sees, 
And sinks behind the happy isles ; 
Thou, who of mighty monarch's court 

So long hast shone unerring star, 
Unmatch'd in earnest or in sport. 

In love, in frolic, and in war ! 

To you. Sir, this invocation must needs be addressed ; for 
whom eJse could it suit ? But you may be puzzled even to 
guess who invokes you, since you have heard nothing of us for 
an age, and since so long an absence may have utterly banished 
us from your recollection. Yet we venture to flatter ourselves 
it may be otherwise. 

* It is dated from Grammont's villa of Semeac, upon the banks of the 
Garonne, where it would seem Philibert and Anthony Hamilton were 
then residing. 

t Corisandc and Menadaure were both ancestresses of the Count de 
Grammont, and celebrated for beauty. 



EPISTLE TO THE COUNT J>E GRAMMONT. 19 

For who was e'er forgot by thee ? 
Witness, at Lerida, Don Brice,* 
And Barcelona's lady nice, 
Donna Ragueza, fair and free ; 
Witness, too, Boniface at Breda, 
And Catalonia and Gasconne, 
From Bourdeaux walls to far Bayonne, 
From Ferpignan to Pueycreda, 

And we your friends of fair Garonne. 

Even in these distant and peaceful regions, we hear, by 
daily report, that you are more agreeable, more unequalled, 
and more marvellous than ever. Our country neighbours, 
great news-mongers, apprized by their correspondents of the 
lively sallies with which you surprise the court, often ask us if 
you are not the grandson of that famous Chevalier de Gram- 
mont, of whom such wonders are recorded in the History of the 
Civil Wars ? Indignant that your identity should be disputed 
in a country where your name is so well knowD, we had formed 
a plan of giving some faint sketch of your merits and history. 
But who were we, that we should attempt the task ? With 
talents naturally but indifferent, and now rusted by long inter- 
ruption of all intercourse with the court, how were it possible 
for us to display taste and politeness, excelling all that is to 
be found elsewhere, and which yet must be attributes of those 
St to make you their theme ? 

Can mediocrity avail, 

To follow forth such high emprize ? 
In vain our zeal to please you tries, 
Where nohlest talents well might fail : 
Where loftiest bards might yield the pen, 

And own 'twere rash to dare, 
'Tis meet that country gentlemen 
Be silent in despair. 

*' Don Brice is celebrated in the Memoirs, but Donna Ragueza does 
?lot appear there. 

c 2 



20 EPISTLE TO THE 

We therefore limited our task to registering all the remark- 
able particulars of your life which our memory could supply, 
in order to communicate those materials to the most skilful 
writers of the metropolis. But the choice embarrassed us. 
Sometimes we thought of addressing our Memoirs to the Aca- 
demy, persuaded that as you had formerly sustained a logical 
thesis," you must know enough of the art to qualify you for 
being received a member of that illustrious body, and praised 
from head to foot upon the day of admission. Sometimes, again, 
we thought, that, as, to all appearance, no one will survive to 
pronounce your eulogium when you are no more, it ought to be 
delivered in the way of anticipation, by the reverend Father 
Massillon or De la Rue. But we considered that the first of 
these expedients did not suit your rank, and that, as to the 
second, it would be against all form to swathe you up while 
alive in the tropes of a funeral sermon. The celebrated 
Boilcau next occurred to us, and we believed at first he was 
tlic very person we wanted ; but a moment's reflection satis- 
fied us that he would not answer our purpose. 

Sovereign of wit, he sits alone, 

And joys him in his glory won ; 

Or if, in history to live, 

The first of monarchs' feats he give. 

Attentive Phoebus guides his hand, 

And Memory's daughters round him stand ; 

He might consign, and only he. 

Thy fame to immortality. 

Yet, vixen still, his muse would mix 

Her playful but malicious tricks. 

Which friendship scarce might smother. 

So gambols the ambiguous cat, 

Deals with one paw a velvet pat, 
And scratches you with t'other. 

* I presume, when he was educated for the chuich. 



COUNT DE GRAMMONT. 21 

The next expedient wliicli occurred to ns was, to have your 
portrait displayed at full length in that miscellany which lately 
gave us such an excellent letter of the illustrious chief of your 
house. Here is the direction we obtained for that purpose : 

Not far from that superb abode 

Where Paris bids her monarchs dwell, 
Retiring from the Louvre's road, 
The office opes its fruitful cell, 
In choice of authors nothing nice, 
To every work, of every price, 
However rhymed, however writ, 
Especially to folks of wit. 
When by rare chance on such they hit. 
From thence each month, in gallant quire, 
Flit sonneteers in tuneful sallies, 
All tender heroes of their alleys, 
By verse familiar who aspire 

To seize the honoured name of poet. 

Some scream, on mistuned pipes and whistles. 
Pastorals and amorous epistles ; 
Some, twining worthless wreath, bestow it 
On bards and warriors of their own, 
In camp and chronicle unknown. 
Here, never rare, though ever new, 
Riddle, in veil fantastic screening, 
Presents, in his mysterious masque, 
A useless, yet laborious task, 
To loungers who have nought to do, 

But puzzle out his senseless meaning. 
'Tis here, too, that, in transports old, 
New elegies are monthly moaning ; 
Here, too, the dead their lists unfold. 
Telling of heirs and widows groaning ; 

Telling what sums were left to glad them. 
And here in copper-plate they shine, ' 

Shewing their features, rank, and line, 

And all their arms, and whence they had them. 

We soon saw it would be impossible to crowd you, with 



22 EPISTLE TO THE 

propriety, into so miscellaneous a iiiiscollany; and tLese^J 
various diflicultics at length reconciled us to our original inten- 
tion of attempting tlie adventure ourselves, despite of our insuf- 
ficiency, and of calling to our assistance two persons whom we 
have not the honour to know, but some of whose compositions 
have reached us. In order to propitiate them by some civili- 
ties, one of us (he who wears at his ear that pearl, which, you^ 
used to say, his mother had hung there out of devotion), began 
to invoke them, as you shall hear 

O ! Thou^ of whom the easy strain 

Enchanted by its happy sway, 
Sometimes the margin of the Seine, 
Sometimes the fair and fertile plain. 

Where winds the Maine her lingering way ; 

Whether the light and classic lay 
Lie at the feet of fair Climene ; 

Or if, La Fare, thou rather cliuse 

The mood of the theatric muse. 
And raise again, the stage to tread, 
Renowned Greeks and Romans dead ; 
Attend I— And thou, too, lend thine aid, 
Chaulieu ! on whom, in rap tur'd hour, 
Phoebus breatliM energy and power; 
Come both, and each a stanza place, 
The structure that we raise to grace ; 
To gild our heavy labours o'er. 
Your aid and influence we implore. 

The invocation was scarce fairly written out, when we 
found the theatric muse a little misplaced, as neither of the 
gentlemen invoked appeared to have written any thing falling 
under her department. This reflection embarrassed us ; and 
we were meditating what turn should be given to the passage, 
when behold ! there appeared at once, in the midst of the 
room, a form that surprised without alarming us:— it was 



COUNT DE GRAMMONT. ^cS 

that of your philosoplier, the inimitable St. Evremont.* None 
of the tumult which usually announces the arrival of ghosts of 
consequence preceded this apparition. 

The sky was clear and still o^er head, 

No earthquake shook the regions under, 
No subterraneous murmur dread, 

And not a single clap of thunder. 
He was not clothed in rags, or tatter'd. 

Like that same grim and grisly spectre. 
Who, ere Fhihppi's contest clatter'd, 

The dauntless Brutus came to hector : 
Nor was he clad like ghost of Laius, 

Who, when against his son he pled, 

Nor worse nor better wardrobe had. 
Than scanty mantle of Emaeus : 

Nor did his limbs a shroud encumber. 
Like that which vulgar sprites enfold, 
When, gliding from their ghostly hold, 

They haunt our couch, and scare our slamber. 

By all this we saw the ghost's intention was not to frigbteD 
us. He was dressed exactly as when we had first the pleasure 
of his acquaintance in London. He had the same air of 
mirth, sharpened and chastened by satirical expression, and 
even the same dress, which undoubtedly he had preserved for 
this visit. Lest you doubt it, 

His ancient studying-cap he wore, 

Well tann'd, of good Morocco hide ;f 
The eternal double loop before, 

That lasted till its master died : 

* With whom, as appears from the Memoirs, the Count, while residing 
in London, maintained the closest intimacy. St. Evremont .was de- 
lighted with his wit, vivacity, and latitude of principle: he called him his 
hero ; wrote verses in his praise ; in short, took as warm an interest in 
him as an Epicurean philosopher can do in any one but himself, 

t One of St. Evremont's peculiarities was, that instead of a wig, the 
universal dress of the time, he chose to wear his own grey hair, covered 
with the leathern cap described in the text. 



24 EP18TLK TO THK 

In fine, the self-same equipage. 

As when, with lovely Mazarine, 
Still boasting of the name of Sage, 

He drowned, in floods of generous wine, 
The dulness and the frost of age, 

And daily paid the homage due, 

To charms that seem*d for ever new. 

As lie arrived un-annoimeecl, lie placed himself between 
us without ceremony, but could not forbear smiling at the 
respect with which we withdrew our chairs, under pretence of 
not crowding him. I had always heard that it was necessary 
to question folks of the other world, in order to engage them 
in conversation ; but he soon shewed us the contrary ; for, 
casting his eyes on the paper which we had left on the table,- 
" I approve," said he, " of your plan, and I come to give you 
some advice for the execution ; but I cannot comprehend the 
choice you have made of these two gentlemen as assistants. I 
admit, it is impossible to write more beautifully than they both 
do ; but do you not see that they write nothing but by starts, 
and that their subjects are as extraordinary as their caprice ? 

Love-lorn and gouty, one soft swain 
Rebels, amid his rhymes profane, 

Against specific water-gruel ; 
Or cherups, in his ill-timed lay. 
The joys of freedom and tokay. 

When Celimena's false or cruel : 
The other, in his lovely strain, 
Tresh from the font of Hippocrene, 

Rich in the charms of sound and sense, 
Throws all his eloquence away. 
And vaunts, the live-long lingering day. 

The languid bliss of indolence. 

'•Give up thoughts of them, if you please; for though you 
have invoked them, they won't come the sooner to your suc- 
cour : Arrange, as well as you can, tbe materials you had 



COUNT DE GRAMMONT. 25 

collected for others, and never mind the order of time or events : 
I would advise you, on the contrary, to chuse the latter years 
of your hero for your principal subject : His earlier adventures 
are too remote to be altogether so interesting in the present 
day. Make some short and light observations on the resolu- 
tion he has formed of never dying, and upon the power he 
seems to possess of carrying it into execution.* 

That art by which his life he has warded, 
And death so often has retarded, 

'Tis strange to me, 

The world's envy 
Has ne'er with jaundiced eye regarded : 
But mid all anecdotes he tells 
Of warriors, statesmen, and of belles, 

With whom he fought, intrigued, and slept, 
That rare and precious mystery, 
His art of immortality. 

Is the sole secret he has kept. 

" Do not embarrass your brains in seeking ornaments, or 
turns of eloquence to paint his character : That would resem- 
ble strained panegyric ; and a faithful portrait will be his best 
praise. Take care how you attempt to report his stories, or 
hons mots : The subject is too great for you.f Try only, in 

^ The Count de Grammont, in his old age, recovered, contrary to the 
expectation of his physicians, and of all the world, from one or two dan- 
gerous illnesses, which led him often to say, in his lively manner, that he 
had formed a resolution never to die. This declaration is the subject of 
much raillery through the whole epistle. 

f Bussi Rabutin assures us, that much of the merit of Grammont's 
Ions mots consisted in his peculiar mode of delivering them, although his 
reputation as a wit was universally established. Few of those which 
have been preserved are susceptible of translation ; but the following may 
be taken as a specimen : 

One day when Charles II, dined in state, he made Grammont remark, 
that he was served upon the knee ; a mark of respect not common at 
other courts. ** I thank your Majesty for the explanation,'' answered 
Grammont : '' I thought they were begging pardon for giving you so bad 
a dinner." — Louis XIY., playing at tric-trac, disputed a throw with 



^" EPISTLE TO THE 

rJating his adventures, to colour over bis failings, and X 
nUief to his merits.. 

'Twas thus, by easy route of yore, ^^ 

My hero to the skies I bore.* *d 

For your part, sketch how beauties tender, 
Did to his vows in crowds surrender : 
Shew him forth-following the banners 

Of one who match' d the goddess-bom : 
Shew how in peace his active manners 
Held dull repose in hate and scorn : 
Shew how at court he made a figure, 
Taught lessons to the best intriguer, 

which he here is supposed to recommend to Hamilton. ^ P'"' 

Here lies the Count de Grammont, stran-er ' 

Old Evremont's eternal theme : "^ 

He who shared Condi's every danger, 
^^_May envy from the bravest claim. ' 
u'ouldst know his art in courtly life ? 
It match'd his courage in the strife. 
Wouldst ask his merit with the fair.?— 
}V ho ever liv'd his equal there ? 
i iis wit to scandal never stooping 
His mirth ne'er to buffoon'ry drooping • 
Keeping his character's marked plan, 
As spouse, sire, gallant, and old man. 
But went he to confession duly ? 

At matins, mass, and vespers steady ? 
l<eryent in prayer ?-~to tell you truly, 
He left these cares to my good lady. 
We may once more see a Turenne ; 

Conde himself may have a double ; 
iiut to make Grammont o'er again, 

V\ ould cost dame nature too much trouble. 



COUNT DE GI?AMMO:sT. 27 

Till, without fawning, like his neighbours, 

His prompt address foiFd all their labours. 
Canvas and colours change once more, 

And paint him forth in various light : 
The scourge of coxcomb and of bore ; 
Live record of lampoons in score, 

And chronicle of love and fight ; 
lledoubted for his plots so rare, 
By every happy swain and fair ; 
Driver of rivals to despair ; 

Sworn enemy to all long speeches ; 
Lively and brilliant, frank and free ; 
Author of many a repartee : 
Remember, over all, that he 

Was most renowned for storming breaches. 
Forget not the white charger's prance, 

Cn which a daring boast sustaining, 
He came before a prince of France, 

Victorious in Alsace campaigning.* 
Tell too by what enchanting art, 
Or of the head, or of the heart. 

If skill or courage gain'd his aim ; 
When to Saint Alban's foul di^igrace. 
Despite his colleague's grave grimace. 
And a fair nymph's seducing face, 

He carried off gay Buckingham.f 
Speak all these feats, and simply speak, — 
To soar too high w-ei-e forward freak, — 

To keep Parnassus' skirts discreetest ; 
For 'tis not on the very peak, 

That middling voices sound the sweetest, 

* Grammont had promised to the Dauphin, then commanding the army 
in Alsace, that he would join him before the end of the campaign, 
mounted on a white horse. 

t Grammont is supposed to have had no small share in determining 
the Duke of Buckingham, then Charles the Second's favoarite minister, to 
break the triple alliance ; for which purpose he went to France with the 
Count, in spite of all that the other English ministers, and even his 
mistress, the celebrated Countess of Shrewsbury, could do to prevent 
him. 



*^ KPl^TLE TO TIIR 

Each tale in easy language dress, 

With natural expression closing ; 
Ljt every rhyme fall in express ; 
Avoid poetical excess, 

And shun low miserable prosing : 
D,):it not on modish style, I pray, 

Nor yet condemn it with rude passion ; .^^^^ 

'rhere is a place near the Marais, ^H 

' Vhere mimicry of antique lay '^ 

Seems to be creeping into fashion. 
'J'iiis new and much-admired way, 

Of using Gothic words and spelling, ' 

Costs but the price of Rabelais, 

Or Ronsard's sonnets, to excel in. 
^•^ ith half a dozen ekes and ayes, 
Or some such antiquated phrase, 
At small expense you'll lightly hit 
On this new strain of ancient wit. 

Wo assured the spirit we would try to profit by this last 
advice, but that his caution against falling into the languor 
ot a prosing narration appeared to us more difficult to follow. 
- Once for all," said he, " do your best ; folks that write for 
tiie Count de Grammont have a right to reckon on some 
nuiulgeuce. At any rate, you are only known through him, 
and ai)parently, what you are about will not increase the 
public curiosity on your own account. I must end my visit 
ho continued, "and by my parting wishes convince my hero 
that I continue to interest myself in his behalf." 

Still may his wit's unceasing charms 

Blaze forth, his numerous days adorning ; 
May he renounce the din of arms, 

And sleep some longer of a morning : 
Still Ijc it upon false alarms, 

That chaplains come to lecture o'er him ;* 

th\^'' ^'^^"^ont having fallen seriously ill, at the age of seventv-five 
the king. WMo knew h.s free sentiments in religious matters, sent Da^^^^^^^^^ 



COU^'T BE GKAM^iO^■T. 29 

Still prematurely, as before, 
That all the doctors give him o'er. 

And king and court are weeping for him 
May such repeated feats convince 

The king he lives but to attend him ; 
And may he, like a grateful prince, 

Avail him of the hint they lend him ; 
Live long as Grammont's age, and longer, 
Then learn his art still to grow younger. 



Here ceas'd the ghostly Norman sage, 

A clerk whom we as well as you rate ; 
The choicest spirit of his age, 

And heretofore your only curate : 
Though not a wit, you see, his spectre 
Doth, like a buried parson's, lecture. 
Then off he glided to the band 

Of feal friends that hope to greet you. 
But long may on the margin stand, 

Of sable Styx, before they meet you. 
No need upon that theme to dwell, 
Since none but you the cause can tell ; 
Yet, if, when some half century more. 
In health and glee, has glided o'er. 
You find you, maugre all your strength, 
Stretch'd out in woeful state at length, 
And forc'd to Erebus to troop. 
There shall you find the joyous group. 

Carousing on the Stygian border 1 
Waiting, with hollo and with whoop, 

To dub you brother of their order : 

There shall you find Dan Benserade, 
Doughty Chapelle and Sarazine, 

Voiture and Chaplain, gallants fine, 
And he who ballad never made, 

Nor rhymed without a flask of wine. 

to give him ghostly advice. The Count, finding his errand, turned to his 
wife, and cried out, '' Countess, if you don't look to it, Dangeau will 

cheat you of my conversion." 



30 BPISTLK TO THE COUNT DE GRAMMONT. 

Adieu, Sir Count, the world around 

Who roam'd in quest of love and battle. 
Of whose high merits fame did tattle, 

As sturdy tilier, knight renown'd. 

Before the warfare of the Fronde, 

Should you again review Gironde, 
Travelling in coach, by journeys slow, 
You'll right hand mark a sweet chateau. 
Which has few ornaments to shew, 

But deep, clear streams, that moat the spot, 

'Tis there we dwell, — forget us not ! 

Think of us then, pray. Sir, if!, by chance, you should take 
a fancy to revisit your fair mansion of Semeac. In the mean 
while, permit us to finish this long letter ; we have endea- 
voured in vain to make something of it, by varying our 
language and style — ^you see how our best efforts fall below 
our subject To succeed, it would bo necessary that he 
whom our fictions conjured up to our assistance were actually 
among the living. But, alas ! 

No more shall Evremont incite us, 

That chronicler whom none surpasses, 
Whether his grave or gay delight us ; 

That favourite of divine Parnassus 
Can find no ford in dark Cocytus : 

From that sad river's fatal bourne, 

Alone De Grammont can return. 



MEMOIRS 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 



I 



MEMOIES 

OF 

COUNT GR AMMO NT 

CHAPTER I. 

As those who read only for amusement are, in my opinion, 
more worthy of attention than those who open a book merely 
to find fault, to the former I address myself, and for their 
entertainment commit the following pages to press, without 
being in the least concerned about the severe criticisms of the 
latter. I farther declare, that the order of time and disposi- 
tion of the facts, which give more trouble to the writer than 
j^leasure to the reader, shall not much embarrass me in these 
memoirs. It being my design to convey a just idea of my 
hero, those circumstances which most tend to illustrate and 
distinguish his character, shall find a place in these fragments 
just as they present themselves to my imagination, without 
paying any particular attention to their arrangement. For, 
after all, what does it signify where the portrait is begun, 
provided the assemblage of the parts form a whole which 
perfectly expresses the original ? The celebrated Plutarch, 
who treats his heroes as he does his readers, commences the 
life of the one just as he thinks fit, and diverts the attention 
of the other with digressions into antiquity, or agreeable 
p.;.ss<igcs of literature, which frequently have no reference to 

D 



34 MEMOIRS OF 

ilio subject for instance, he tells us, that Dcmetrmsf 
Poliorcotea was far from being so tall as his father, Antigo- 
nus; and afterwards, that his reputed father, Antigonus, was 
only his uncle ; but this is not until he has begun his life, 
with a short account of his death, his various exploits, his 
good and bad qualities ; and at last, out of comjmssion to his 
failings, brings forward a comparison between him apd the 
unfortunate Mark Antony. 

In the life of Numa Pompilius, he begins by a dissertation 
upon his preceptor Pythagoras ; and, as if he thought the 
reader would be anxious to know whether it was the ancient 
philosopher, or one of the same name, who, after being 
victorious at the Olympic games, went full speed into Italy 
to teach Numa philosophy, and instruct him in the arts of 
government, he gives himself much trouble to explain this 
difficulty, and, after all, leaves it undetermined. 

What I have said upon this subject is not meant to reflect 
upon this historian, to whom, of all the ancients, we are most 
obliged ; it is only intended to authorize the manner in 
which I have treated a life far more extraordinary than any 
of those he has transmitted to us. It is my part to describe 
a man, whose inimitable character casts a veil over those 
faults which I shall neither palliate nor disguise ; a man, 
distinguished by a mixture of virtues and vices so closely 
linked together, as in appearance to form a necessary depend- 
ence, glowing with the greatest beauty when united, shining 
with the brightest lustre when opposed. 

It is this indefinable brilliancy, which, in war, in love, in 
gaming, and in the various stages of a long life, has rendered 
the Count de Grammont the admiration of his age, and the 
delight of evory country wherein he has displayed his engag- 
ing wit, dispensed his generosity and magnificence, or 
practised his inconstancy: it is owing to this that the sallies 



COUNT GRAMMONT. Sri 

of a sprightly imagination Lave produced those admirable bon 
mots, which have been with universal applause transmitted 
to posterity. It is owing to this, that ho jireserved his judg- 
inont free and unembarrassed in the most trying situations, 
ind enjoyed an uncommon presence of mind and facetious- 
icss of temper in the most imminent dangers of war. I shall 
not attempt to draw his portrait : his person has been de- 
v^cribed by Bussi and St. Evremond,^ authors more entertaining 
than faithful. The former has represented the Chevalier 
Grammont as artful, fickle, and even somev/hat treacherous, 
in his amours, and indefatigable and cruel in his jealousies. 
St. Evremond has used other colours to express the genius 
and describe the general manners of the Count ; whilst both, 
in their difierent pictures, have done greater honour to them- 
selves than justice to their hero. 

It is, therefore, to the Count we must listen, in the agreeable 
relation of the sieges and battles wherein he distinguished 
liimself under another hero ; and it is on him we must rely 
for the truth of passages the least glorious of his life, and for 
tho sincerity with which he relates his address, vivacity, 
frauds, and the various stratagems he practised either in love 
or gaming. These express his true character, and to himself 
v^e owe these memoirs, since I only hold the pen, while ho 
directs it to the most remarkable and secret passages of his 

To. 



3C MEMi^lRS OP 



CHAPTER II. 

In those days affairs were not managed in France as at 
present: Louis XIII.^ then sat upon the throne, but the Car- 
dinal de Richlieu'^ governed the kingdom ; great men com- 
manded little armies, and little armies did g'reat things : the 
fortune of great men depended solely upon ministerial favour, 
and blind devotion to the will of the minister was the only 
sure method of advancement. Vast designs were then laying 
in the heart of neighbouring states the foundation of that 
Ibrmldable greatness to which France has now risen : the 
police was somewhat neglected; the highways were impas- 
sable by day, and the streets by night ; but robberies were 
committed elsewhere with greater impunity. Young men, 
on their first entrance into the world, took what course they 
thought proper: whoever would, was a Chevalier, and who- 
ever could, an Abbe, — I mean a beneficed Abbe : dress made 
no distinction between them ; and, I believe, the Chevalier 
(xrammont was both the one and the other at the siege of 
''"rino."* 

This was his first campaign, and here he displayed those 
.ittractlvo graces which so favourably prepossess, and require 
uoithcr friends nor recommendations in any company to pro- 
cure a favourable reception. The siege was already formed 
when he arrived, which saved him some needless risks; for a 
volunteer cannot rest at ease, until he has stood the first fire : 
he went therefore to reconnoitre the generals, having no occa- 
sion to reconnoitre the place. Prince Thomas^ commanded 
the army; and as the post nf lieutenant-general was not thru 



COUNT GRAMMOKT. 37 

knowii,^' Dii Plessis Pralin' and the famous Viscount Turenne^ 
were his major-generals. Fortified places were treated witli 
some respect, before a power which nothing can withstand 
]iad found means to destroy them by dreadful showers of 
bombs, and by destructive batteries of hundreds of pieces of 
cannon. Before these furious storms which drive governors 
under ground and reduce their garrisons to powder, repeated 
sallies bravely repulsed, and vigorous attacks nobly sustained, 
signalized both the art of the besiegers and the courage of 
the besieged ; consequently sieges were of some length, and 
yoiing men had an opportunity of gaining some knowledge. 
Many brave actions were performed on each side during the 
siege of Trino ; a great deal of fatigue was endured, and con- 
siderable losses sustained ; but fatigue was no more considered, 
hardships vv^ere no more felt in the trenches, gravity was at 
an end with the generals, and the troops were no longer dis- 
pirited after the arrival of the Chevalier Grammont. Plea- 
sure was his pursuit, and he made it universal. 

Among the officers in the army, as in all other places, 
there are men of real merit, or pretenders to it. The latter 
endeavoured to imitate the Chevalier Grammont in his most 
shining qualities, but without success ; the former admired 
his talents and courted his friendship. Of this number was 
Matta :^ he was agreeable in his person, but still more by 
the natural turn of his wit ; he was plain and simple in his 
manners, but endued with a quick discernment and refined 
delicacy, a.nd full of candour and integrity in all his actions. 
The Chevalier Grammont was not long in discovering his 
amiable qualities ; an acquaintance was soon formed, and was 
succeeded by the strictest intimacy. 

Matta insisted that the Chevalier should take up his 
quarters with him ; to which he only consented, on condition 
of equally contributing to the expense. As they were both 



88 BIEJMOlllS OF 

libera] and magnificent, at tlieir coTiiinon cost they gave the 
best -designed and most luxurious entertainments that had 
ever yet been seen. Phiy -u-as wonderfully productive at 
lirst, and the Chevalier restored by a hundred different ways 
that Avhicli he obtained only by one. The generals, being 
entertained by turns, admired their magnificeuce, and were 
dissatisfied with their own officers for not keeping such good 
tables and attendance. The Chevalier had the talent of set- 
ting off* the most indifferent things to advantage ; and his 
wit was so generally aclmovv'ledged. that it was a kind of 
disgrace not to submit to his taste. To him Matta resigned 
the care of furnishing the table and doing its honours ; and, 
charmed with the general applause, persuaded himself that 
nothing could be more honourable than their way of living, 
and nothing more easy than to continue it ; but he soon 
perceived that the greatest prosperity is not the most last- 
ing. Good living, bad economy, dishonest servants, and ill- 
luck, all uniting together to disconcert their house -keeping, 
their table was going to be gradually laid aside, when the 
Chevalier's genius, fertile in resources, nndertook to support 
his former credit by the following expedient. 

They had never yet conferred about the state of their 
finances, although the stev/ard had acquainted each separately, 
that he must either receive money to continue the expenses, 
or give in his accounts. One day, when the Chevalier came 
home sooner tlian usual, he found Matta fast asleep in an easy 
chair, and, being unwilling to disturb his rest, be began mus- 
ing on his project. Matta awoke without his perceiving it; 
and having, for a short time, observed the deep contemplation 
he seemed involved in, and the profound silence between two 
persons, who had never held their tongues for a moment when 
together before, he broke it by a sudden fit of laughter, which 
increased in proportion ns the other stared at him. " A merry 



COU^^T GRAMMONT. Sd 

way of waking, and ludicrous enougli," said tlie Chevalier; 
" What is the matter, and whom do you laugh at ?" '* Faith, 
Chevalier," said Matta, " I am laughing at a dream I had just 
now, which is so natural and diverting, that I must make 
you laugh at it also. I was dreaming that we had dismissed 
our mailre d'hotel, our cook, and our confectioner, having re- 
solved, for the remainder of the campaign, to live upon others 
as others have lived upon us ; this was my dream. Now tell 
me. Chevalier, on what v/ere you musing ?'* " Poor fellow !" 
said the Chevalier, shrugging up his shoulders, " you are 
knocked down at once, and thrown into the utmost conster- 
nation and despair at some silly stories, which the maitre 
d'hotel has been telling you as well as me. What 1 after the 
figure we have made in the face of the nobility and foreigners 
in the army, shall we give it up, and like fools and beggars 
sneak off, upon the first failure of our money ! Have you no 
sentiments of honour? Where is the dignity of France?" 
" And where is the money?" said Matta; ''for my men say, 
the devil may take them, if there be ten crowns in the house j 
and I believe you have not much more, for it is above a week 
since I have seen you pull out your purse, or count your 
money, an amusement you were very fond of in prosperity." 
" I own all this," said the Chevalier, " but yet I will force 
you to confess, that you are but ii mean-spirited fellow upon 
this occasion. What would have become of you if you had 
been reduced to the situation I was in at Lyons, four days 
before I arrived here ? I vrill tell you the story." 



40 MEMOIRS OF 



CHAPTER III. 

" This," said Matta, " smells strongly of romance, except 
that it should have been your Squire's part to tell your ad- 
veiitures/' " True/' said the Chevalier ; " however, I may 
acquaint you with my first exploits without offending my 
modesty ; besides, my Squire's style borders too much upon 
the burlesque for an heroic narrative. 

" You must know, then, that upon my arrival at Lyons" 
— " Is it thus you begin ? " said Matta, " pray give us your 
history a little farther back, the most minute particulars of 
a life like yours are worthy of relation ; but above all, the 
manner in which you first paid your respects to Cardinal 
Richliou : I have often laughed at it. However, you may 
j)ass over the unlucky pranks of your infancy, your genea- 
logy, name and quality of your ancestors, for that is a subject 
^vlih which you must be utterly unacquainted." 

" Poll !" said the Chevalier, " you believe that all the world 
is as ignorant as yourself ; — ^you think that lam a stranger to 
the Mendores and the Corisandes. So, perhaps I don't know, 
that it was my father's own fault that he was not the son of 
Henry lY. The king would by all means . have acknow- 
ledged him for his son, but the traitor would never consent 
to it. Sec what the Grammonts would have been now, but 
for this cross-grained fellow ! They would have had pre- 
cedence (If the Cicsars de Ycndome.^^ You may laugh, if you 
like, yet it is as true as the gospel: but let us come to the 
point. 

" I was sent to the college of Pnu/' witli Iho intention 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 41 

being brought up to the church ; but as I had quite different 
views, I made no manner of improvement : gaming was so 
much in my head, that both my tutor and the master lost 
their hibour in endeavouring to teach me Latin. Old Brinon, 
who served me both as valet-de-chambre and governor, in 
vain threatened to acquaint my mother. I only studied when 
I pleased, that is to say, seldom or never : however, they 
treated me as is customary with scholars of my quality ; I 
was raised to all the dignities of the forms, without having 
merited them, and left college nearly in the same state in 
which I entered it ; nevertheless I was thought to have more 
knowledge than was requisite for the abbacy, which my bro- 
ther had solicited for me. He had just married the niece of 
a minister, to whom every one cringed : he was desirous to 
present me to him. I felt but little regret to quit the coun- 
try, and great impatience to see Paris. My brother having 
kept me some time with him, in order to polish me, let mc 
loose upon the tov/n to shake off my rustic air, and learn the 
manners of the world. I so thoroughly gained them, that I 
could not be persuaded to lay them aside when I was intro- 
duced at court in the character of an Abbe. You know 
what kind of dress was then the fashion. All that they could 
obtain of me was to put a cassock over my other clothes, and 
my brother, ready to die with laughing at my ecclesiastical 
habit, made others laugh too. I had the finest head of hair 
in the world, well curled and powdered, above my cassock, 
and below were white buskins and gilt spurs. The Cardinal, 
who had a quick discernment, could not help laughing. This 
elevation of sentiment gave him umbrage ; and he foresaw 
what might be expected from a genius that already laughed 
at the shaven crown and cowl. 

" When my brother had taken me home ; ' Well, my little 
parson,' said he, ^ you have acted your part to admiration, and 



^^ MEMOIRS OF 



your party-colourcJ dress ot the ecclesiastic and soldier h;s 
greatly d.vc.ted the court; but this is not all ; you must no.- 
choose, my httle kni-^ht. Consider then, whether, by stick- 
ing to the church, you will possess great revenues, and have 
notlnng to do ; or with a small portion, you will risk the loss 
of a leg 01- arm, and be the/r.,c;^« belli of an insensible court 
to arm-em your old age at the dignity of a major-general! 
with a glass eye and a wooden leg.' ' I know,' said J, ' that 
there ,s no comparison between these two situations, with 
regard to the conveniences of life; but, as a man ought to 
secure Ins future state in preference to all other considerations 
I am resolved to renounce the church for the salvation of my 
soul, upon condition, however, that I keep my abbacy.' Nei- 
ther tlie remonstrances nor authority of my brother could 
induce me to change my resolution ; and he was forced to 
agree to this last article in order to keep me at the academy. 
You kno«' that I am the most adroit man in France, so that 
I soon learned all that is taught at such places, and, at the 
^ame tune, I also learnt that which gives the finishing stroke 
o a young fellow's education, and n.akes him a gentleman, 
iz all .sorts of games, both at cards and dice; but the truth 
^S I thought, at first, that I had more skill in them than I 
really had as experience proved. When my mother knew 
he eho.ce I had made, she w.s inconsolable ; for she reckoned, 
tliat had I been a clergyman I should have been a saint ; bu 
now she was certain that I should either be a devil in the 
-orld, or be killed in the wars. And indeed I burned wi h 
impatience to be a soldier; but being yet too youn. I was 
Wd to make a campaign at Bidache^i/before /madTone n 
^ army. When I returned to n,y mother's house, I had so 
much the a,r of a court.er, and a man of the world, that she 

towards the army. I became her favourite, and finding me 



CGU.NT GilAMMO.NT. 43 

inflexible, she oiilj thought of keeping me with her as long as 
she could, while my little equipage was preparing. The 
faithful Brinon, who was to attend me as valet-de-chambre, 
was likew^ise to discharge the office of governor and equerry, 
being, perhaps, the only Gascon who was ever possessed of so 
much gravity and ill-temper. He passed his word for mv 
good behaviour and morality, and promised my mother that 
he would giA^e a good account of my person in the dangers of 
the war ; but I hope he will keep his word better as to this 
List article, than be has done to the former. 

" My equipage was sent away a week before me. This 
was so much time gained by my mother to give me a good 
advice. At length, after having solemnly enjoined me to 
have the fear of God before my eyes, and to love my neigh- 
bour as myself, she suffered me to depart, under the protec- 
tion of the Lord and the sage Brinon. At the second stage 
we quarrelled. He had received four hundred louis d'ors for 
the expenses of the campaign : I wished to have the keeping 
of them myself, which he strenuously opposed. ' Thou old 
/scoundrel,' said I, 'is the money thine, or was it given thee 
for me ? You suppose I must have a treasurer, and receive 
no money without his order.' I know not whether it was 
from a presentiment of what afterwards happened, that he 
grew melancholy ; however, it was with the greatest reluc- 
tance, and the most poignant anguish, that he found himself 
bliged to yield. One would have thought that I had 
wrested his very soul from him. I found myself more light 
and merry after I had eased him of his trust ; he, *on the con- 
trary, appeared so overwhelmed with grief, that it seemed as 
if I had laid four hundred pounds of lead upon his back, 
instead of taking away these four hundred louis. He went 
on so iieaviiy, that I was forced to whip his horse myself, and 
turning to me, now and then, 'Ah ! Sir,' said lie, 'my lady 







44 MEMOIRS or 

dill uot tliink ii uoiild he so.' His reflections and sorrows 
were renewed at every stage ; for, instead of giving a shilling 
to tlie post-boy, I gave liini half-a-crown. 

'^ Having, at last, reacdied Lj^ons, tv^^o soldiers stopped us 
at the gate of the city, to carry us before the governor. I 
took one of them to conduct me to the best inn, and delivered 
Brinon into the hands of the other, to acquaint the com- 
mandant with the particulars of my journey, and my future 
intentions. 

'• There are as good taverns at Lyons as at Paris ; but my 
soldier, according to custom, carried me to a friend of his 
own, whose house he extolled, as having the best accommo- 
dations, and the greatest resort of good company in the whole 
town. The master of this hotel was as big as a hogshead, his 
name Cerise ; a Swiss by birth, a poisoner by profession, and 
a. thief by custom. He shewed me into a tolerably neat room, 
and desired to know, whether I pleased to sup by myself or 
at the ordinary. I chose the latter, on account of the beau- 
uionde which the soldier had boasted of. 

'' Brinon, who was quite out of temper at the many 
»|uestions which the governor had asked him, returned n^.ore 
surly than an old ape ; and seeing that I was dressing my 
hair, in order to go down stairs : ' What are you about now, 
8ir ? ' said he ; 'are you going to tramp about the town? 
No, no : have we not had tramping enough ever since the 
morning ? Eat a bit of supper, and go to bed betimes, that 
you may get on horseback by daybreak.' ' jMr. Comptroller,' 
-aid I, ' I shall neither tramp about the town, nor eat alone, 
nor go to bed early. I intend to sup with the company 
l)elow/ ' At the ordinary ! ' cried he, ' I beseech you. Sir, 
<lo not < hink of it ! Devil take me, if there be not a dozen 
brawling fellows playing at cards and dice, who make noiso 
enourrh to drown the loudest thunder!' 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 45 

" I was grown insolent since I had seized the money ; and 
being desirous to shake off the yoke of a governor, ' Do you 
know, Mr. Brinon/ said I, 'that I don't like a blockhead to 
set up for a reasoner ? do you go to supper, if you please, but 
take care that I have post-horses ready before daybreak.' 
The moment he mentioned cards and dice, I felt the money 
burn in my pocket. I was somewhat surprised, however, to 
lind the room where the ordinary was served filled with odd- 
looking creatures. My host, after presenting me to the 
company, a;Ssured me, that there were but eighteen or twenty 
of those gentlemen who would have the honour to sup with 
me. I approached one of the tables where they were play- 
ing, and thought I should have died with laughing : I 
expected to have seen good company and deep play ; but I 
only met with two Germans playing at backgammon. Never 
did two country loobies play like them ; but their iSgures 
beggared all description. The fellow near whom I stood was 
sliort, thick, and fat, and as round as a ball, with a ruff, and 
a prodigious high-crowned hat. Any one, at a moderate 
<listance, would have taken him for the dome of a church, 
with the steeple on the top of it. I inquired of the host, who 
he was. ' A merchant from Basle,' said he, ' who comes 
lilthcr to sell horses ; but from the method he pursues, I think 
he will not dispose of many ; for he does nothing but play.' 
' Does he play deep ? ' said I. ' Not now,' said he ; ' they 
are only playing for their reckoning, while supper is getting 
ready ; but he has no objection to play as deep as any one.'* 
' Has he money ? ' said I. ' As for that,' replied the 
treacherous Cerise, ' would to God you had won a thousand 
pistoles of him, and I went your halves ; we should not be 
long without our money.' I wanted no farther encourage- 
ment to meditate the ruin of the high-crowned hat. I went 
nearer him, in order to take a closer survey ; never was such 



46 MEMOIRS or 

a bungler, he niaile blots upon blots ; God knows, I began to 
feel sonic remorse tit winning of such an ignoramus, wlio 
knew so little of the game. lie lost his reckoning ; supper 
was served up ; and I desired him to sit next me. It was a 
long table, and there were at least iive-and-twenty in 
company, notwithstanding the landlord's promise. The most 
execrable repast that ever was begun being finished, all the 
crowd insensibly dispersed, except the little Swiss, who still 
kept near me, and the landlord, who placed himself on the 
other side of me. They both smoked like dragons ; and the 
Swiss was continually saying in bad French, ' I ask your 
pardon, Sir, for my great freedom ;' at the same time blow- 
ing such whiffs of tobacco in my face as almost suffocated me. 
Mr. Cerise, on the other hand, desired he might take the 
liberty of asking me, whether I had ever been in his country ; 
and seemed surprised I had so genteel an air, without having 
travelled in Switzerland. 

" The little chub I had to encounter was full as inquisitive 
as the other. He desired to know whether I came from the 
army in Piedmont ; and having told him I was going thither, 
he asked me, whether I had a mind to buy any horses ? that 
he had about two hundred to dispose of, and that he would 
sell them cheap. I began to be smoked like a gammon of 
bacon ; and being quite wearied out, both with their tobacco 
and their questions, I asked my companion, if he would play 
for a single pistole at backframmon, while our men were sup- 
ping ; it was not without great ceremony that he consented, 
at the same time asking my pardon for his great freedom. M 

'' I vron the game ; I gave him his revenge, and won againS 
We then played double or quit ; I won that too, and all in 
the twinkling of an eye; for he grew vexed, and suffered 
himself to be taken in, so that I began to bless my stars for 
my good fortune. Brinon came in about the end of the 



COU^T GRAMMONT. 47 

third game, to put me to bed. He made a great sign of the 
cross, but paid no attention to the signs I made him to retire. 
I was forced to rise to give him that order in private. He 
began to reprimand me for disgracing myself by keeping 
company with such a low-bred wretch. It was in vain that I 
told him, he w^as a great merchant, that he had a great deal 
of money, and that he played like a child. ' He a merchant ! ' 
cried Brinon. ^ Do not believe that, Sir. May the devil 
take me, if he is not some conjurer.' ' Hold your tongue, 
old fool,' said I; 'he is no more a conjurer than you are, and 
that is decisive; and, to prove it to you, I am resolved to win 
four or five hundred pistoles of him before I go to bed.' 
With these words I turned him out, strictly enjoining him 
not to return, or in any manner to disturb us. 

"The game being done, the little Swiss unbuttoned his 
pockets, to pull out a new four-pistole piece, and presenting 
it to me, he asked my pardon for his great freedom, and 
seemed as if he wished to retire. This was not what T 
wanted. I told him we only })laycd for amusement ; that I 
had no design upon his money ; and that, if he pleased, I 
would play him a single game for his four pistoles. He 
raised some objections ; but consented at last, and won back 
his money. I was piqued at it. I played another game ; 
fortune changed sides; the dice ran for him, he made no 
more blots. I lost the game ; another game, and double or 
quit ; we doubled the stake, and played double or quit again. 
— I was vexed ; he, like a true gamester, took every bet I 
offered, and won all before him, without my getting more 
than six points in eight or ten games. I asked him to play a 
single game for one hundred pistoles ; but a^ he saw I did not 
stake, he told me it was late ; that he must go and look after 
his horses ; and went away, still asking my pardon for his 
great freedom. The cool manner of his refusal, and the 



48 MEMOIHS OF 

politeness with which he took his leave, provoked mo to such 
a degree, that I almost could hare killed him. I was so 
contounded at losing my money so fast, even to the last 
pistole, that I did not immediately consider the miserable 
situation to which I was reduced. 

" I durst not go up to my chamber for fear of Brinon. 
By good luck, however, he was tired with waiting for me, 
and had gone to bed. This was some consolation, though 
but of short continuance. As soon as I was laid down, all 
the fatal consequences of my adventure presented themselves 
to my imagination. I could not sleep. I saw all the horrors 
of my misfortune, without being able to find any remedy ; in 
vain did I rack my brain ; it supplied me with no expedient. 
I feared nothing so much as daybreak : however, it did come, 
and the cruel Brinon along with it. He was booted up to 
the middle, and cracking a cursed whip, which he held in his 
hand : ' Up, Monsieur le Chevalier,' cried he, opening the 
<jurtains, ' the horses are at the door, and you are still asleep. 
We ought by this time to have rid two stages ; give me 
money to pay the reckoning.* ' Brinon,' said I, in a dejected 
tone, ' draw the curtains.' ' What !* cried he, ' draw the cur- 
tains ! Do you intend then to make your campaign at Lyons ? 
You seem to have taken a liking to the place. And for the 
irreat merchant, you have stripped him, I suppose. No, no, 
.Monsieur le Chevalier, this money will never do you any 
rood. This wretch has, perhaps, a family ; and it is his 
children's bread that he has been playing with, and that you 
Irave won. Was this an object to sit up all night for? 
AVhat would my lady say, if she knew what a life you lead?* 
' Mr. Brinon,* said I, ' pray draw the curtains.' But instead 
of obeying me, one would have thought that the devil had 
j)rompted him to use the most j^ointed and galling terms to a 
jerson under such misfortunes. 'And how much have you 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 49 

WOD ^' said he : 'five iuiudred pistoles? what must the poor 
man do? Recollect, Monsieur le Chevalier, what I have 
said : this money will never thrive with you. It is, perhaps, 
hut four hundred ? three ? two ? "Well, if it be but one 
hundred louis d'ors,' continued he, seeing that I shook my 
head at every sum which he had named, ' there is no great 
mischief done ; one hundred pistoles will not ruin him, pro- 
vided you have won them fairly/ ' Friend Brinon,' said I, 
fetching a deep sigh, ' draw the curtains ; I am unworthy to 
see daylight/ Brinon was much affected at these melan- 
choly words : but I thought he would have fainted, v/hen I 
told him the whole adventure. He tore his hair, made 
grievous lamentations, the burden of which still was, ' What 
will my lady say V And, after having exhausted his un- 
profitable complaints, ' What will become of you now. Mon- 
sieur le Chevalier?' said he, ' what do you intend to do?* 
' Nothing,' said I, ' for I am fit for nothing/ After this, 
being somewhat eased after making him my confession, I 
thought upon several projects, to none of which could I gain 
his a,pprobation. I would have had him post after my 
equipage, to have sold some of my clothes. I was for pro- 
posing to the horse-dealer, to buy some horses of him at a 
high price on credit, to sell again cheap. Brinon laughed 
at all these schemes, and after having had the cruelty of 
keeping me upon the rack for a long time, he at last extri- 
cated me. Parents are always stingy towards their poor 
children ; my mother intended to have given me five hundred 
louis d*ors, but she had kept back fifty, as well for some 
little repairs in the abbey, as to pay for praying for me. 
Brinon had the charge of the other fifty, with strict injunc- 
tions not to speak of them, unless upon some urgent necessity. 
— And this, you see, soon happened." 

E 



30 MEMOIRS OF 

•'Thus you have a brief iiccount of my first adventure. 
Play has hitherto iavoured me ; for, since my arrival, I have 
had, at one time, after paying all my expenses, fifteen hun- 
dred louis d'ors. Fortune is now again become unfavourable: 
we must mend her. Our cash runs low ; we must, therefore, 
endeavour to recruit/* 

" Nothing is more easy," said Matta ; " it is only to find 
out such another dupe as the horse-dealer at Lyons ; but now 
I think on it, has not the faithful Brinoa some reserve for 
the last extremity ? Faith, the time is now come, and we 
cannot do better than to make use of it." 

" Your raillery would be very seasonable,'' said the Che- 
valier, " if you knew how to extricate us out of this difficulty. 
You must certainly have an overflow of wit, to be throwing 
it away upon every occasion as at present. What the devil ! 
v.ill you always be bantering, without considering what a 
<erious situation we are reduced to ? Mind what I say, I will 
go to-morrow to the head-quarters, I will dine with the Count 
dc Cameran, and I will invite him to supper." " Where?" said 
Matta. " Here," said the Chevalier. " You are mad, my poor 
friend," replied Matta. " This is some such project as you 
formed at Lyons : you know we have neither money nor 
credit; and, to re-establish our circumstances, you intend to 
give a supper." 

'' Stupid fellow !" said the Chevalier, " is it possible that, so 
long as we have been acquainted, you should have learned no 
more invention ? The Count de Cameran plays at qiiiuze, 
and so do I ; we want money ; he has more than he knows 
what to do with; I will bespeak a splendid supper, he shall 
pay for it. Send your maitre d'hotel to me, and trouble 
yourself no fartlicr, except in some precautions, which it is 
necessary to take on such an occasion." "What are they ^ 



COUNT GRAMMOIsT 51 

said Matta. " I will tell jou," said the Chevalier ; '' for I find 
one must explain to you things that are as clear as noon- 
day. 

" You command the guards that are here, don't you ? As 
soon as night comes on, you shall order fifteen or tv/enty men 
under the command of your serjeant La Place, to be under 
arms, and to lay themselves flat on the ground, between tliii 
place and the head-quarters/' " What the devil!" cried Matta, 
" an ambuscade ? God forgive me, I believe you intend to rob 
the poor Savoyard. If that be your intention, I declare I 
will have nothing to say to it." " Poor devil !" said the Che- 
valier, " the matter is this ; it is very likely that we shall win 
his money. The Piedmontese, though otherwise good fel- 
lows, are apt to be suspicious and distrustful. He commands 
the horse ; you know you cannot hold your tongue, and are 
very likely to let slip some jest or other that may vex him. 
Should he take it into his head that he is cheated, and resent 
it, who knows what the consequences might be ; for he is com- 
monly attended by eight or ten horsemen. Therefore, how- 
ever he may be provoked at his loss, it is proper to be in such 
a situation as not to dread his resentment." 

" Embrace me, my dear Chevalier," said Matta, holding 
his sides and laughing, " embrace me, for thou art not to be 
matched. What a fool was I to think, when yon talked to 
me of taking precautions, that nothing more was necessary 
than to prepare a table and cards, or perhaps to provide 
some false dice! I should never have thought of supporting 
a man who plays at quinze by a detachment of foot : I must, 
indeed, confess that you are already a great soldier." 

The next day every thing happened as the Chevalier 
Grammont had planned it ; the unfortunate Cameran fell 
into the snare. They supped in the most agreeable manner 
possible : Matta drank five or six bumpers to drown a few 

E 2 



52 MEMOIRS OF 

scruples, wliich made him somewhat uneasy. The Chevalier 
de Grammont shone as usual, and almost made his guest die 
with laughing, wliom he was soon after to make very serious; 
and the good-natured Cameran cat like a man whose affec- 
tions were divided hetween good cheer and a love of play; 
that is to say, he hurried down his victuals, that he might 
not lose any of the precious time which he had devoted to 
quinze. 

Supper being done, the serjeant La Place posted his 
ambuscade, and the Chevalier de Grammont engaged his 
man. The perfidy of Cerise, and the high-crowned hat, w^ere 
still fresh in remembrance, and enabled him to get the better 
of a few grains of remorse, and conquer some scruples which 
arose in his mind. Matta, unwilling to be a spectator of 
violated hospitality, sat down in an easy chair, in order to 
fall asleep, while the Chevalier was stripping the poor Count 
uf his money. 

They only staked three or four pistoles at first, just for 
amusement; but Cameran having lost three or four times, 
he staked high, and the game became serious. He still lost, 
and became outrageous ; the cards ilew about the room, and 
the exclamations awoke Matta. 

As his head was heavy with sleep, and hot with wine, be 
began to laugh at the passion of the Piedmontese, instead 
of consoling him. " Faith, my poor Count," said he, ''* if I 
/vas in your place, I would play no more." ''Why so?" 
aid the other. '' I don't know," said he, " but my heart 
tells me that your ill-luck will continue." " I will try 
that," said Canieran, calling for fresh cards. " Do so," said 
Matta, and fell asleep again : it was but for a short time. 
/Vll cards were equally unfortunate for tlie loser. lie held 
none but tens or court cards; and if by chance he had quinze, 
Le was sure to be the younger hand, and therefore lost it. 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 53 

Again he stormed. '•'Did not I tell you so?" said Matta, 
starting out of his sleep : " all your storming is in vain ; as 
long as you play you will lose. Believe me, the shortest 
follies are the best. Leave off, for the devil take me, if it 
is possible for you to win." "Why?" said Cameran, who 
began to be impatient. ''Do you wish to know?" said 
Matta ; " why, faith, it is, because we are cheating you." 

The Chevalier de Grammont, provoked at so ill-timed a 
jest, more especially as it carried along with it some appear- 
ance of truth ; " Mr. Matta," said he, " do you think it can 
be very agreeable for a man, who plays with such ill-luck 
:is the Count, to be pestered with your insipid jests? For 
my part, I am so weary of the game, that I would desist 
immediately, if he was not so great a loser." Nothing is 
more dreaded by a losing gamester, than such a threat ; and 
the Count, in a softened tone, told the Chevalier, that 
Mr. Matta might say what he pleased, if he did not offend 
him ; that, as to himself, it did not give him the smallest 
uneasiness. 

The Chevalier de Grammont gave the Count far better 
treatment than he himself had experienced from the Swiss 
at Lyons ; for he played upon credit as long as he pleased ; 
which Cameran took so kindly, that he lost fifteen hundred 
pistoles, and paid them the next morning. As for Matta, 
he was severely reprimanded for the intemperance of his 
tongue. All the reason he ga,ve for his conduct vv^as, that 
he made it a point of conscience, not to suffer the poor 
Savoyard to be cheated, without informing him of it ; " Be- 
sides," said he, " it would have given me pleasure to have 
seen my infantry engaged with his horse, if he had been 
inclined to mischief." 

This adventure having recruited their finances, fortune 



54 Mi:iMOIR;.^ OF 

favoured then; tlie rciiiainJer of the caiiipaign, and the Che- 
valier de Grammont, to prove that he had only seized upon 
the Count's effects hy way of reprisal, and to indemnify him- 
self for tic losses he had sustained at Lyons, began from 
this time to make the same use of his money, that he has 
heen known to do since upon all occasions. He found out 
the distressed, in order to relieve them; officers, who had 
lost their equipage in the war, or their money at play ; 
soldiers, who were disabled in the trenches ; in short, every 
one felt the influence of his benevolence: but his manner of 
conferring a favour exceeded even the favour itself. 

Every man, possessed of such amiable qualities, must meet 
with success in all his undertakings. The soldiers knew his 
person, and adored him. The generals were sure to meet 
]iim in e^ery scene of action, and sought his company at 
other times. As soon as fortune declared for him, his first 
care was to make restitution, by desiring Cameran to go his 
halves in all parties where the odds were in his favour. 

An inexhaustible fund of vivacity and good-humour gave 
a certain air of novelty to whatever he either said or did. I 
know not on what occasion it was that Monsieur de Turenne, 
towards the end of the siege, commanded a separate body. 
The Chevalier de Grammont went to visit him at his new 
quarters, where he found fifteen or twenty officers. M. de 
Turenne was naturally fond of merriment, and the Cheva- 
lier's i)rcsence was sure to inspire it. He was much pleased 
with this visit, and by way of acknowledgment, would have 
engaged him to play. The Chevalier de Grammont, in re- 
turning him thanks, said, that he had learned from his tutor, 
that when a man went to see his friends, it was neither pru* 
dent to leave his own niDney behind him, nor civil to carry 
off theirs. "Truly," said Monsieur de Turenne, "you will 



COUNT GEAMMONT. 55 

find neitlier deep play, nor much money among us ; but, that 
it may not be said that we suffered you to depart v/ithout 
playing, let us stake every one a horse/' 

The Chevalier de Grammont agreed. Fortune, who had 
followed him to a place where he did not think he should have 
any need of her, made him win fifteen or sixteen horses, by 
way of joke ; but, seeing some countenances disconcerted at the 
loss, " Gentlemen," said he, " I should be sorry to see you re- 
turn on foot from your generars quarters ; it will be enough 
for me if you send me your horses to-morrow, except one, 
which I give for the cards/ 

The valet- de-chamb re thought he was bantering. " I speak 
seriously,'* said the Chevalier, " I give you a horse for the 
cards ; and what is more, take whichever you please, except 
my own." " Truly," said Monsieur de Turenne, " I am vastly 
pleased with the novelty of the thing ; for I don't believe that 
a horse was ever before given for the cards." 

Trino surrendered at last. The Baron de Batteville, ^ who 
had defended it valiantly, and for a long time, obtained a 
capitulation worthy of such a resistance. I do not know 
whether the Chevalier de Grammont had any share in the 
capture of this place ; but I know very well, that during a 
more glorious reign, and with armies ever victorious, his in- 
trepidity and address have been the cause of taking others 
since, even under the eye of his master, as we shall see in the 
sequel of these memoirs. 



5b MEMOIRS OP 



CHAPTER lY. 

Military glory is at most but one half of tlie accomplisli- 
ments which distinguish heroes. Love must give the finishing 
stroke, and adorn their character by the difficulties they en- 
counter, the temerity of their enterprises, and finally, by tlio 
lustre of success. We have examples of this, not only in ro- 
mances, but also in the genuine histories of the most famous 
warriors, and the most celebrated conquerors. 

The Chevalier de Grammont and Matta, who did not think 
much of these examples, were, however, of opinion, that it 
would be very agreeable to refresh themselves after the 
fatigues of the siege of Trino, by forming somiO other sieges, 
at the expense of the beauties and the husbands of Turin. As 
the campaign had finished early, they thought they should 
have time to perform some exploits before the bad weather 
obliged them to repass the mountains. 

They sallied forth, therefore, not unlike Amadis de Gaul, 
or Don Galaor, after they had been dubbed knights, eager in 
their search after iadventures in love, war, and enchantments. 
They were greatly superior to those two brothers, who only 
knew how to cleave in twain giants, to break lances, ano ^/ 
carry off fair damsels behind them on horseback, without 
saying a single word to them ; whereas our heroes were 
adepts at cards and dice, of which the others were totally 
ignorant. 

They went to Turin, met with an agreeable reception, and 
were greatly distinguished at court. Could it be otherwise ^ 
They were young and handsome ; they had wit at command, 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 57 

and spent their money liberally. In what country will not a 
man succeed, possessing such advantages ? As Turin was at 
that time the seat of gallantry and of love, two strangers of 
this description, who were always cheerful, brisk, and lively, 
could not fail to please the ladies of the court. 

Though the men of Turin were extremely handsome, they 
were not, however, possessed of the art of pleasing. They 
treated their wives with respect, and were courteous to 
strangers. Their wives, still more handsome, were full as 
eourteous to strangers, and less respectful to tlieir hus- 
bands. 

Madame Royale,^"* a worthy daughter of Henry lY., ren- 
dered her little court the most agreeable in the world. &hc 
inherited such of her father's virtues, as compose the proper 
ornament of her sex ; and with regard to what are termed 
the foibles of great souls, her highness had in no wise dege- 
nerated. 

The Count de Tanes was her prime minister. It was not 
difficult to conduct affairs of state during his administration. 
No complaints were alleged against him ; and the princess, 
satisfied with his conduct herself, was, above all, glad to 
have her choice ap23roved by her whole court, where people 
lived nearly according to the manners and customs of ancient 
chivalry. 

The ladies had each a professed lover, for fashion's sake, 
besides volunteers, whose numbers were unlimited. The de- 
clared admirers wore their mistresses' liveries, their arms, and 
sometimes even took their names. Their office was, never 
to quit them in public, and never to approach them in pri- 
vate ; to be their squires upon all occasions, and, in justs 
and tournaments, to adorn their lances, their housings, and 
their coats, with the cyphers and the colours of their dul- 
cmeas. 



.08 MEMOllIS OF 

]\IfLtta was far from "being averse to gallantry ; but would 
have liked it more simple than as it was practised at Turin 
The ordinary forms would not Lave disgusted him ; but he 
found here a sort of superstition in the ceremonies a-nd 
worshij) t)f love, which he thought very inconsistent : however, 
as he h.'d submitted his conduct in that matter to the 
direction o/ the Chevalier de Granunont, he was obliged to 
follow his examj^le, and to conform to the customs of the 
country. 

They enlisted themselves at the same time in the service of 
two beauties, whose former squires gave them up immediately 
from motives of politeness. The Chevalier de Gramm^ont 
chose Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain, and told Matta to 
offer his services to Madame de Senantes. Matta consented, 
though he liked the other better ; but the Chevalier de 
Grammont persuaded him, that Madame de Senantes was 
more suitable for him. As he had reaped advantage from the 
Chevalier's talents in the first projects they had formed, he 
resolved to follow his instructions in love, as he had done his 
advice in play. 

Mademoiselle de Saint- Germain was in the bloom of youth ; 
her eyes were small, but very bright and sparkling, and like 
her hair were black ; her complexion v/as lively and clear, 
though not fair : she had an agreeable mouth, two fine rows 
of teeth, a neck as handsome as one could wish, and a most 
delightful shape ; she had a particular elegance in her elbows, 
which, however, she did not shew to advantage ; her hands 
were rather large and not very white ; her feet, though not 
of the smallest, were well shaped ; she trusted to Providence, 
and used no art to set off those graces which she had received 
from nature ; but notwithstanding her negligence in the em- 
bellishment of her charms, there was something so lively in 
her person, that the Chevalier de Grammont was caught at 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 59 

first sight ; Ler wit and humour corresponded with her other 
qualities, being quite easy and perfectly charming ; she was 
all mirth, all life, all complaisance and politeness, and all was 
natural, and always the same without any variation. 

The Marchioness de Senantes^^ was esteemed fair, and she 
might have enjoyed, if she had pleased, the reputation of 
having red hair, had she not rather chosen to conform to the 
taste of the age in which she lived, than to follow that of the 
ancients : she had all the advantages of red hair without any 
of the inconveniences ; a constant attention to her person 
served as a corrective to the natural defects of her com- 
plexion. After all, what does it signify, whether cleanliness 
be owing to nature or to art ? it argues an invidious temper, 
to be very inquisitive about it. She had a great deal of wit, a 
good memory, more reading, and a still greater inclination 
towards tenderness. 

She had a husband, w^hom it would have been criminal 
even in chastity to spare. He piqued himself upon being a 
Stoic, and gloried in being slovenly and disgusting in honour 
of his profession. In this he succeeded to admiration ; for 
he v/as very fat, so that he perspired almost as much in 
winter as in summer. Erudition and brutality seemed to be 
the most conspicuous features of his character, and were dis- 
played in his conversation, sometimes together, sometimes 
alternately, but always disagreeably : he was not jealous, 
and yet he was troublesome ; he was very well j)leased to see 
attentions paid to his wife, provided more were paid to him. 

As soon as our adventurers had declared themselves, the 
Chevalier de Grammont arrayed himself in green habiliments, 
and dressed Malta in blue, these being the favourite colours 
of their new mistresses. They entered immediately upon 
duty: the Chevalier learned and practised all the ceremonies 
of this species of gallantry, as if he always had been accus- 



60 MEMOIHS OF 

tomed to tbeiu ; but Malta commonly forgot one half, and 
was not over perfect in practising the other. He never 
could remember, that his office was to promote the glory, and 
not the interest, of his mistress. 

The Duchess of Savoy gave the very next day an entertain- 
ment at LaYenerie,^^ where all the ladies were invited. The 
Chevalier was so agreeable and diverting, that he made his 
mistress almost die with laughing. Matta, in leading his lady 
to the coach, squeezed her hand, and at their return from the 
promenade he begged of her to pity his sufferings. This was 
proceeding rather too precipitately, and, although Madame de 
Senantes was not destitute of the natural compassion of her 
sex, she nevertheless was shocked at the familiarity of this 
treatment ; she thought herself obliged to shew some degree 
of resentment, and, pulling away her hand, which he had 
pressed with still greater fervency upon this declaration, she 
went up to the royal apartments without even looking at her 
new lover. Matta, never thinking that he had offended her, 
suffered her to go, and went in search of some company to sup 
with him : nothing was more easy for a man of his disposition ; 
he soon found what he wanted, sat a long time at table to re- 
fresh himself after the fatigues of love, and went to bed com- 
pletely satisfied that he had performed his part to perfection. 

During all this time the Chevalier de Grammont acquitted 
himself towards Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain with univer- 
sal applause; and, without remitting his assiduities, he found 
means to shine, as they went along, in the relation of a thou- 
sand entertaining anecdotes, which he introduced in the general 
conversation. Her Royal Highness heard them with pleasure, 
and the solitary Senantes likewise attended to them. He per- 
ceived this, and quitted his mistress to inquire what she had 
done with Matta. " I ! " said she, " I have done nothing with 
him ; but I don't know wliat he would have done with me, if 



COUNT GEA3I2IONT. 61 

I had been obliging enough to listen to his most humble 
solicitations." She then told him in what manner his 
friend had treated her the very second day of their ac- 
quaintauce. 

The Chevalier could not forbear laughing at it : he told her 
Matta was rather too unceremonious, but yet she would like 
him better as their intimacy more improved, and for her con- 
solation he assured her, that he would hav^e spoken in the same 
manner to her Royal Highness herself ; however, he would 
not fail to give him a severe reprimand. He went the next 
morning into his room for that purpose ; but Matta had gone 
out early in the morning on a shooting party, in which he had 
been engaged by his supper companions in the preceding even- 
ing. At his return he took a brace of partridges and went to 
his mistress. Being asked whether he wished to see the 
marquis, he said no ; and the Swiss telling him his lady was 
not at home, he left his partridges, and desired him to present 
them to his mistress from him. 

The marchioness was at her toilet, and was decorating her 
head with all the grace she could devise to captivate Matta, at 
the moment he was denied admittance : she knew nothing ot 
the matter ; but her husband knew every particular. He had 
taken it in dudgeon, that the first visit was not paid to him, 
and as he was resolved that it should not be paid to his wife, 
the Swiss had received his orders, and had almost been beaten for 
receiving the present which had been left. The partridges, 
however, were immediately sent back; and Matta, without 
examining into the cause, was glad to have them again. He 
w^ent to court without ever changing his clothes, or in the 
least considering he ought not to appear there without his 
lady's colours. He found her becomingly dre. ied ; her eyes 
appeared to him more than usually sparkling, and her whole 
person altogether divine. He began from that day to be 



62 MEMOIRS OP 

much pleased with himself for his complaisance to the Che- 
valier de Grammont ; however, he could not help remarking 
that she looked but coldly upon him. This appeared to him 
a very extraordinary return for his services, and, imagining 
that she was unmindful of her weighty obligations to him, he 
entered into conversation with her, and severely repri- 
manded her for having sent back his partridges with so mucli 
indifference. 

She did not understand what he meant ; and highly 
offended that he did not apologize, after the reprimand which 
she concluded him to have received, told him, that he cer- 
tainly had met with ladies of very complying dispositions in 
his travels, as he seemed to give himself airs that she was by 
no means accustomed to endure. Matta desired to know, 
wherein he could be said to have given himself any. 
" Wherein V said she: "the second day that you honoured 
me with your attentions, you treated me as if I had been 
your humble servant for a thousand years : the first time 
that I gave you my hand, you squeezed it as violently as you 
were able. After this commencement of your courtship, I 
got into my coach, and you mounted your horse ; but, 
instead of riding by the side of the coach, as any reasonable 
gallant would have done, no sooner did a hare start from her 
form, than you immediately galloped full speed after her : 
having regaled yourself, during the promenade, by taking 
snuff, without ever deigning to bestow a thought on me, 
the only proof you gave me, on your return, that you 
recollected me, was by soliciting me to surrender my reputa- 
tion in terms polite enough, but very explicit. And now 
you talk to me of having been shooting of partridges, and of 
some visit or other, which, I suppose, you have been dream- 
ing of, as well as of all the rest." 

The Chevalier de Grammont now advanced, to the inter- 



COUNT GRAMMO>fT. 63 

riiption of this whimsical dialogue. Matta was rebuked for 
his forwardness, and his friend took abundant pains to con- 
vince him, that his conduct bordered more upon insolence 
than familiarity. Matta endeavoured to exculpate himself, 
but succeeded ill. His mistress took compassion upon him, and 
consented to admit his excuses for the manner, rather than his 
repentance for the fact, and declared, that it was the intention 
alone, v/hich could either justify or condemn, in such cases ; 
that it was very easy to pardon those transgressions which 
arise from, excess of tenderness, but not such as proceeded 
from too great a presumption of success. Matta swore, that 
he only squeezed her hand from the violence of his passion, 
and that he had been driven.^ by necessity, to ask her to re- 
lieve it ; that he was yet a novice in the arts of solicitation ; 
that he could not possibly think her more worthy of his affec- 
tion, after a month's service, than at the present moment ; 
and that he entreated her to cast away an occasional thought 
upon him when her leisure admitted. The marchioness was 
not offended : she saw very well, that she must not require 
an implicit conformity to the established rule of decorum, 
when she had to deal with such a character ; and the Cheva- 
lier de Grammont, after this sort of reconciliation, went to 
look after his own affair with Mademoiselle de St. Germain. 

His concern was not the offspring of mere good nature, nay 
it was the reverse ; for no sooner did he perceive, that the 
marchioness looked with an eye of favour upon him, than this 
conquest, appearing to him more easy than the other, he 
thought it was prudent to take advantage of it, for fear of 
losing the opportunity, and that he might not have spent all 
his time to no purpose, in case he should prove unsuccessful 
with the little St. Germain. 

Isi the mean time, in order to maintain that authority 



G4 MEMOIRS OF 

which he had usurped over the conduct of his friend, he, that 
very evening, notwithstanding what had been already said, 
reprimanded him for presuming to appear at court in his 
morning suit, and without his mistress's badge ; for not having 
had the wit or prudence to pay his first visit to the Marquis 
de Senantes, instead of consuming his time to no purpose, in 
inquiries for the lady ; and, to conclude, he asked him what 
the devil he meant by presenting her with a brace of miser- 
able red partridges. " And why not ?" said Matta : " ought 
they to have been blue, too, to match the cockade and sword- 
knots you made me wear the other day ? Plague not me 
with your nonsensical whimsies : my life on it, in one fort- 
night your equal in foppery and folly will not be found 
throughout the confines of Turin ; but, to reply to your ques- 
tions, I did not call upon Monsieur de Senantes, because I 
had nothing to do with him, and because he is of a species of 
animals which I dislike, and always shall dislike : as for you, 
you appear quite charmed with being decked out in green 
ribands, with writing letters to your mistress, and filling 
your pockets with citrons, pistachios, and such sort of stuff, 
with which you are always cramming the poor girl's mouth, 
in spite of her teeth : you hope to succeed by chanting ditties, 
composed in the days of Corisande and of Henry IV. which 
you will swear yourself have made upon her: happy in prac- 
tising the ceremonials of gallantry, you have no ambition for 
the essentials. Very well : every one has a particular way 
of acting, as well as a particular taste : yours is to trifle in 
love ; and, provided you can make Mademoiselle de St. Ger- 
main laugh, you are satisfied : as for my part, I am persuaded 
that women here are made of the same materials as in other 
places ; and I do not think that they can be mightily ofiended, 
if one sometimes leaves off trifling, to come to the point : how- 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 65 

ever, if the Marchioness is not of this way of thinking, she 
may e'en provide herself elsewhere ; for I can assure her, 
that I shall not long act the part of her squire." 

This was an unnecessary menace ; for the Marchioness in 
reality liked him very well, was nearly of the same way of 
thinking herself, and wished for nothing more than to i>ut his 
gallantry to the test. But Matta proceeded upon a wrong plan ; 
he had conceived such an aversion for her husband, that he 
could not prevail upon himself to make the smallest advance 
towards his good graces. He was given to understand, that 
he ought to begin by endeavouring to lull the dragon to sleep, 
before he could gain possession of the treasure ; but this was 
all to no purpose, though, at the same time, he could never see 
his mistress but in public. This made him impatient, and as 
he was lamenting his ill-fortune to her one day : " Have the 
goodness, Madam," said he, " to let me know where you live : 
there is never a day that I do not call upon you, at least 
three or four times, without ever being blessed with a sight of 
you." " I generally sleep at home," replied she, laughing ; 
" but I must tell you, that you will never find me there, if 
you do not first pay a visit to the Marquis : I am not mistress 
of the house. I do not tell you," continued she, " that he is 
a man, whose acquaintance any one would very impatiently 
covet for his conversation : on the contrary, I agree that his 
humour is fantastical, and his manners not of the pleasing 
cast ; but there is nothing so savage and inhuman, which a 
little care, attention, and complaisance, may not tame into 
docility. I must repeat to you some verses upon the subject : 
I have got them by heart, because they contain a little advice, 
which you may accommodate, if you please, to your own 
case." 



GO MEMOIRS OF 



RONDEAU. 



Keep ill mind these maxims rare, 
You who hope to win the fair ; 
WTio are, or would esteemed be, 
Tl^e quintessence of gallantry, 

Tliat fopp'ry, grinning, and grimace 
And fertile store of common- place ; 
That oaths as false as dicers swear, 
And iv'ry teeth, and scented hair ; 
That trinkets, and the pride of dress. 
Can only give your scheme success. 

Keep in mind. 

Has thy charmer e'er an aunt ? 
Then learn the rules of woman's cant, 
And forge a tale, and swear you read it, 
Such as, save woman, none would credit: 
Win o'er her confidante and pages, 
By gold, for this a golden age is ; 
And should it be her wayward fate, 
To be incumbered with a mate, 
A dull, old dotard should he be, 
That dulness claims thy courtesy. 

Keep in mind. 

'' Truly/' said Matta, " the song may say what it please.s, 
hut I cannot put it in practice : your hushand is far too exqui- 
site a monster for me. Why what a plaguy odd ceremony do 
you require of us in this country if we cannot pay our com- 
pliments to the wife without being in love with the husband?" 

TIic Marchioness was much offended at this answer ; and 
as she thought she had done enoujh in pointing out to him 
the path which would conduct him to success, if he had de- 
served it, she did not think it worth while to enter into any 
farther explanation ; since he refused to cede, for her sake, so 
trifling an objection : from this instant she resolved to have 
done with him. 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 



The Chevalier de Grammont had taken leave of his mis^ 
tress nearly at the same time : the ardour of his pursuit was 
extinguished. It was not that Mademoiselle de Saint-Germain 
was less worthy than hitherto of his attentions : on the con- 
trary, her attractions visibly increased : she retired to her 
pillow with a thousand charms, and ever rose from it with ad- 
ditional beauty ; the phrase of increasing in beauty as she 
increased in years, seemed to have been purposely made for 
her. The Chevalier could not deny these truths, but yet he 
could not find his account in them : a little less merit, with a 
little less discretion, would have been more agreeable. He 
perceived that she attended to him with pleasure, that she was 
diverted with his stories as much as he could wish, and that 
she received his billets and presents without scruple ; but then 
he also discovered that she did not wish to proceed any far- 
ther. He had exhausted every species of address upon her, 
and all to no purpose : her attendant was gained ; her family, 
charmed with the music of his conversation and his great 
attention, were never happy without him : in short, he had 
reduced to practice the advice contained in the Marchioness's 
song, and every thing conspired to deliver the little Saint- 
Germain into his hands, if the little Saint-Germain had her- 
self been willing : but alas ! she was not inclined. It was in 
vain he told her the favour he desired would cost her nothing; 
and that since these treasures were rarely comprised in the 
fortune a lady brings with her in marriage, she would never 
find any person, who, by unremitting tenderness, unwearied 
attachment, and inviolable secrecy, would prove more worthy 
of them than himself. He then told her, no husband was ever 
able to convey a proper idea of the sweets of love, and that 
nothing could be more different than the passionate fondness 
of a lover, always tender, always afiectionate, yet always 
respectful, and the careless indifference of a husband. 



68 MEMOIRS OF 

Mademoiselle de Saint-Gcrnuuii, not wishing to take the 
matter in a serious light, that she might not be forced to resentSi 
it, answered, that since it was generally the custom in her™ 
country to marry, she thought it was right to conform to it. 
without entering into the knowledge of those distinctions, and 
tliose marvellous particulars which she did not very well un- 
derstand, and of which she did not wish to have any further 
explanation ; that she had submitted to listen to him this one 
time, but desired he would never speak to her again in the same 
strain, since such sort of conversation was neither entertaining 
to her, nor could be serviceable to him. Though no one was 
ever more facetious than Mademoiselle de Saint- Germain, she 
yet knew how to assume a very serious air, whenever occasion 
required it. The Chevalier de Grammont soon saw that she 
was in earnest ; and finding it would cost him a great deal of 
time to effect a change in her sentiments, he was so far 
cooled in this pursuit, that he only made use of it to hide the 
designs he had upon the Marchioness de Senantes. 

He found this lady much disgusted at Matta's want of 
complaisance ; and his seeming contempt for her erased every 
favourable impression which she had once entertained for him. 
While she was in this humour, the Chevalier told her, that 
licr resentment was just ; he exaggerated the loss which his 
friend had sustained ; he told her that her charms were a 
tliousand times superior to those of the little Saint-Germain, 
and requested that favour for himself which his friend did not 
deserve. He was soon favourably heard upon this topic, and 
as soon as they were agreed, they consulted upon two measures 
necessary to be taken, the one to deceive her husband, the 
other his friend, which was not very difficult : Matta was not 
at all suspicious ; and the stupid Senantes, towards whom the 
Chevalier had already behaved as Matta had refused to do, 
could not be easy without him. This was much more than 



COUNT GRAMMONT, 69 

was wanted ; for as soon as ever the Chevalier was with the 
Marchioness, her husband immediately joined them out of 
politeness ; and on no account would have left them alone 
together, for fear they should grow weary of each other with- 
out him. 

Matta, who all this time was entirely ignorant that he was 
disgraced, continued to serve his mistress in his own way. 
She had agreed with the Chevalier de Grammont, that to all 
appearance every thing should be carried on as before; so 
that the court always believed that the Marchioness only 
thought of Matta and that the Chevalier was entirely devoted 
to Mademoiselle de Saint- Germain. 

There were very frequently little lotteries for trinkets ; the 
Chevalier de Grammont always tried his fortune, and vras 
sometimes fortunate ; and under pretence of the prizes he had 
won, he bought a thousand things which he indiscreetly gave 
to the Marchioness, and which she still more indiscreetly 
accepted : the little Saint- Germain very seldom received any 
thing. There are meddling whisperers everywhere ; remarks 
were made upon these proceedings, and the same person that 
made them communicated them likewise to Mademoiselle de 
Saint- Germain. She pretended to laugh, but in reality was 
piqued. It is a maxim religiously observed by the fair sex, 
to envy each other those indulgences which themselves refuse. 
She took this very ill of the Marchioness. On the other hand, 
Matta was asked, if he was not old enough to make his own 
presents himself to the Marchioness de Senantes, without 
sending them by the Chevalier de Grammont. This roused 
him ; for, of himself, he would never have perceived it : his 
suspicions, however, were but slight, and he was willing to 
have them removed. " I must confess," said he to the Che- 
valier de Grammont, " that they make love here quite in a 
new style : a man serves here without reward ; he addresses 



70 • i^ii:^'.ioiRs OF 

himself to the liiisbaiid when lie is in love with the wife, and 
makes presents to another man's mistress, to get into the good 
graces of his own. The Marchioness is much obliged to you 

for" " It is you who arc cbiiged," replied the Chevalier, 

" since this was done on your account : I was ashamed to find 
you had never yet thought of presenting her with any trifling 
token of your attention. Do you know that the people of 
this court have such extraordinary notions, as to .think that it 
is rather owing to inadvertency that you never yet have had 
the spirit to make your mistress the smallest present ? For 
shame ! how ridiculous it is, that you can never think for 
yourself ! " 

Matta took this rebuke, without making any answer, being 
persuaded that he had in some measure deserved it ; besides, 
iie vras neither sufficiently jealous, nor sufficiently amorous, 
to think any more of it ; however, as it was necessary for the 
Chevalier s affairs, that Matta should be acquainted with the 
Marquis de Senantes, he plagued him so much about it, that 
at last he complied. His friend introduced him, and his mis- 
tress seemed pleased with this proof of complaisance, though 
slic v/as resolved that he should gain nothing by it ; and the 
husband, being gratified with a piece of civility which he had 
long expected, determined, that very evening, to give them a 
supper at a little country seat of his, on the banks of the river, 
very near the city. 

The Chevalier de Grammont answering for them both, 
accepted the offer ; and as this was the only one Matta would 
not liave refused from the Marquis, he likewise consented. 
The ilarquis came to convey them in his carriage at the hour 
;;ppointed ; but he found only Matta. The Chevalier had 
engaged himself to play, on purpose that they might go with- 
out him ; ^latta v/as for waiting for him, so great was his 
fear of being left alone v/itli the Marquis ; but the Chevalier 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 71 

having sent to desire them to go on before, and that he would 
6e with them as soon as he had finished his game, poor Matta 
was obliged to set out with the man, who, of all the world, 
was most offensive to him. It was not the Chevalier s inten- 
tion quickly to extricate Matta out of this embarrassment ; 
he no sooner knew that they were gone, than he waited on the 
Marchioness, under pretence of still finding her husband, that 
they might all go together to supper. 

The plot was in a fair way ; and as the Marchioness was 
of opinion that Matta's indifference merited no better treat- 
ment from her, she made no scruple of acting her part in it : 
she therefore waited for the Chevalier de Grammont with in- 
tentions so much the more favourable, as she had for a long 
time expected him, and had some curiosity to receive a visit 
from him in the absence of her husband. We may therefore 
suppose that this first opportunity would not have been lost, 
if Mademoiselle de Saint- Germain had not unexpectedly come 
in, almost at the same time with the Chevalier. 

She was more handsome and more entertaining that day 
than she had ever been before ; however, she appeared to 
them very ugl}^, and very tiresome : she soon perceived that 
her company was disagreeable, and being determined that 
they should not be out of humour with her for nothing, after 
having passed above a long half-hour in diverting herself 
with their uneasiness, and in playing a thousand monkey tricks, 
which she plainly saw could never be more unseasonable, she 
pulled off her hood, scarf, and all that part of her dress which 
ladies lay aside, when in a familiar manner tbey intend to pass 
the day any^vhere. The Chevalier de Grammont cursed her in 
his heart, while she continued to torment him for being in 
such ill-humour in such good company. At last the Mar- 
chioness, who was as much vexed as he was, said, rather drily, 
that she was obliged to wait on her Royal Highness : Made- 



,Z :SIEM()I11S OF 

moiselle de Saiut-Germain told her, that she would have the 
honour to accompany her, if it would not be disagreeable. 
She took not the smallest notice of her offer ; and the Che- 
valier finding that it would be entirely useless to prolong his 
visit at that time, retired v/ith a good grace. 

As soon as he had left the house, he sent one of his scouts 
to desire the Marquis to sit down to table with his company, 
without waiting for him, because the game might not perhaps 
be finished so soon as he expected, but that he would be with 
him before supper was over. Having despatched this messenger, 
ho placed a sentinel at the Marchioness's door, in hopes that 
the tedious Saint- Germain might go out before her ; but this 
was in A^ain, for his spy came and told him, after an hour s 
impatience and suspense, that they were gone out together. 
He found there was no chance of seeing her again that day ; 
every thing falling out contrary to his wishes : he was forced 
therefore to leave the Marchioness, and go in quest of the 
Marquis. 

While these things were going on in the city, Matta was 
not much diverted in the country : as he was prejudiced 
against the Marquis, all that he said displeased him. He 
cursed the Chevalier heartily for the t^te-h-tdte which he had 
procured him ; and he was upon the point of going away, 
Avhen he found that he was to sit down to supper without any 
other company. ^ 

However, as his host was very choice in his entertainments, 
and had the best wine and the best cook in all Piedmont, the 
.'sight of the first course appeased him ; and eating most 
voraciously, without paying any attention to the Marquis, he 
flattered himself that the supper would end without any dis- 
pute ; but he was mistaken. 

"When the Chevalier de Grammont was at first endeavouv- 
\Y\[r to brini( about an intercourse between the Murouis and 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 73 

?ti;i,tta, he had given a very advantageous character of the 
latter, to make the former more desirous of his acquaintance ; 
and in the display of a thousand other accomplishments, 
knowing what an infatuation the Marquis had for the very 
name of erudition, he assured him that Matta was one of the 
most learned men in Europe. 

The Marquis, therefore, from the moment they sat down to 
supper, had expected some stroke of learning from Matta, to 
bring his own into j^lay ; but he was much out in his reckon- 
ing. No one had read less, no one thought less, and no one had 
ever spoken so little at an entertainment as he had done : as 
he did not wish to enter into conversation, he opened his 
mouth only to eat, or ask for wine. 

The other, being offended at a silence which appeared to 
him affected, and wearied with having uselessly attacked him 
upon other subjects, thought he might get something out of 
him by changing the discourse to love and gallantry ; and 
therefore, to begin the subject, he accosted him in this 
manner : — 

"Since you are my w^ife's gallant" — *^' I !" said Matta, 
who wished to carry it discreetly : " those who told you so, 
told a damned lie." " Zounds, Sir," said the Marquis, " you 
speak in a tone which does not at all become you ; for I 
would have you to know, notwithstanding your contemptuous 
airs, that the Marchioness de Senantes is perhaps as worthy 
of your attentions as any of your French ladies, and that I 
have known some, greatly your superiors, who have thought 
it an honour to serve her." " Yery well," said Matta; "I 
think she is very deserving, and since you insist upon it, I 
am her servant and gallant, to oblige you.'' 

"You think, perhaps," continued the other, "that the 
same custom prevails in this country as in your own, and that 
the ladies have lovers, with no other intentions than to grant 



74 



MEAIOIRS OP 



hem favours: undeceive yourself, if you please, and kuow 
h.ce-.v.se that, even if such events were frequent in this court, 
I should not be at all uneasy." " Nothing can be more civil," 
said Matta, "but wherefore would you not?" "I will tell 
you why," replied he : "I am well acquainted with the affec- 
tion my wife entertains for me; I am acquainted witn her 
discretion towards all the world; and what is more, I am 
acquainted with my own merit." 

"You have a most uncommon acquaintance then," replied 
Matta; ;' I congratulate you upon it; I have the honour to 
drink I in a bumper." The Marquis pledged him ; but see- 
ing that the conversation dropped on their ceasing to drink 
after two or three healths, he wished to make a second at- 
tempt, and attacked Matta on his strong side, that is to say 
on his learning. *^' 

He desired him, therefore, to tell him, at what time he 
thought the Allobroges came to settle in Piedmont. Matta 
who wished him and his Allobroges at the devil, said, "that 
It must be in the time of the civil wars." «I doubt that" 
said the otiier. "Just as you like," said Matta. "Under 
what consulate ?" replied the Marquis. " Under that of the 
League," said Matta, « when the Guises brought the Lansque- 
nets into France; but what the devil does that si<rnify?" 

The Marquis was tolerably warm, and naturally savage, so 
tliat Crod knows how the conversation would have ended if 
the Chevalier de Grammont had not unexpectedly come in to 
^ippease them. It was some time before he could find out what 
their debate was; for the one had forgotten the questions, and 
"0 other the answers, which had disobliged him, in order to 
. proacl, the Chevalier with his eternal passion for play, which 
made h.m always uncertain. The Chevalier, who knew that 
ho was still more culpable than they thought, bore it all with 
patience, and condemned himself more tiian they desired 



COUKT GRAjMMONT. 'O 

TIlis appeased them; and the entertaiRment ended with 
greater tranquillity than it had begun. The conversation was 
asrain reduced to order : but he could not enliven it as he 
usually did. He was in very ill humour, and as he pressed 
them every minute to rise from table, the Marquis was of 
opinion that he had lost a great deal. Matta said, on the 
contrary, that he had won ; but for want of precautions had 
made perhaps an unfortunate retreat ; and asked him if he 
had not stood in need of Sergeant La Place, with his ambus- 
cade. 

This piece of history was beyond the comprehension of the 
Marquis, and being afraid that Matta might explain it, the 
Chevalier changed the discourse, and was for rising from 
table ; but Matta vv^ould not consent to it. This effected a 
reconciliation between him and the Marquis, v/lio thought 
this was a piece of civility intended for him ; however, it was 
not for liim, but for his wine, to which Matta had taken a 
prodigious liking. 

The Duchess, who knew the character of the Marquis, was 
charmed with the account which the Chevalier de Grammont 
gave her of the entertainment and conversation ; she sent for 
Matta to know the truth of it from himself ; he confessed, 
that before the Allobroges were mentioned the Marquis was 
for quarrelling with him, because he was not in love with his 
v/ife. 

Their acquaintance having begun in this manner, all the 
esteem which the Marquis had formerly expressed for the 
Chevalier seemed now directed towards Matta. He went 
every day to pay Matta a visit, and Matta was every day with 
his wife. This did not at all suit the Chevalier. He re- 
pented of his having chid Matta, whose assiduity now inter- 
rupted all his schemes ; and the Marchioness was still more 
embarrassed. Whatever wit a man may have, it will never 



'^^ MEMOIRS OP 

please where his compauy is disliked ; and she repented that 
she had been formerly guilty of some trifling advances towards 
him. 

Matta began to find charms in her person, and might have 
lound the same in her conversation, if she had been inclined 
to display them ; but it is impossible to be in good humour 
with persons who thwart our designs. While his passion 
increased, the Chevalier de Grammont was solely occupied in 
endeavouring to find out some method, by which he might 
accomplish his intrigue ; and this was the stratagem which 
he put in execution, to clear the coast, by removing at one 
and the same time both the lover and the husband. 

He told Matta, that they ought to invite the Marquis to 
supper at their lodgings, and he would take upon himself to 
provide every thing proper for the occasion. Matta desir^pd 
to Icnow if it was to play at quinze, and assured him that he 
should take care to render abortive any intention he might 
have to engage in play, and leave him alone with the greatest 
blockhead in all Europe. The Chevalier de Grammont did 
not entertain any such thought, being persuaded that it 
would be impossible to take advantage of any such oppor- 
tunity, in whatever manner he might take his measures, and 
that they would seek for him in every corner of the city 
rather than allow him the least repose : his whole attention 
was therefore employed in rendering the entertainment agree- 
able, in finding out means of prolonging it, in order ultimately 
to kindle some dispute between the Marquis and Matta. For 
this purpose he put himself in the best humour in the world, 
and the wine produced the same effect on the rest of the 
company. 

The Chevalier de Grammont expressed his concern, that 
he had not been able to give the Marquis a little concert, as 
he had intended in the morning ; for the musicians had been 



COUNT G^vAMMO^"T. 



all pre-engaged. Upon this the Marquis undertook to have 
them at his country-house the following evening, and invited 
tlie same company to sup with him there. Matta asked what 
the devil they wanted with music, and maintained, that it 
was of no use on such. occasions hut for women, who had 
fiomething to say to their lovers, while the fiddles prevented 
them from being overheard; or for fools, who had nothing 
to say when the music ended. They ridiculed all his 
arguments : the party was fixed for tlie next day, and the 
music was voted by the majority of voices. The Marquis, to 
console Matta, as well as to do honour to the entertainment, 
toasted a great many healths : Matta was more ready to 
listen to his arguments on this topic man in a dispute ; but the 
Chevalier, perceiving that a little would irritate them, desircc 
nothing more earnestly than to see them engaged in some nevr 
controversy. It was in vain that he had from time to time 
started some subject of discourse with this intention ; but 
having luckily thought of asking what was bis lady's maiden 
name, Senantes, who was a great genealogist, as all fools are 
who have good memories, immediately began by tracing out 
her family, by an endless confused string of lineage. The 
Chevalier seemed to listen to him with great attention ; and 
perceiving that j^^Iatta was almost out of patience, he desired 
him to attend to what the Marquis was saying, for that 
nothing could be more entertaining. " All this may be very 
true," said Matta ; "but for my part, I must confess, if I 
were married, I should rather choose to inform myself who 
was the real father of my children, than who were my wife's 
grandfathers." The Marquis, smiling at this rudeness, did 
not leave ofi* until he had traced back the ancestors of his 
spouse, from line to line, as far as Yolande de Senantes ; 
iifter this, he ofi'ered to prove, in less than half an hour, that 
the Grammonts came originally from Spain. " Very well/' 



78 MEMOIRS OP 

said Matta, " and j^ray what does it signify to us from whence 
the Grammonts are descended ? Do not you know, Sir, that 
it is better to know nothing at all than to know too much V 

The Marquis maintained the contrary with great warmth, 
and was preparing a formal argument to prove that an igno- 
rant man is a fool ; but the Chevalier de Grammont, who 
was thoroughly acquainted with Matta, saw very clearly that 
he would send the logician to the devil before he should arrive 
at the conclusion of his syllogism : for which reason, inter- 
posing as soon as they began to raise their voices, he told 
them, it was ridiculous to quarrel about an affair in itself so 
trivial, and treated the matter in a serious light, that it might 
make the greater impression. Thus supper terminated peace- 
ably, owing to the care he took to suppress all disputes, and 
to substitute plenty of wine in their stead. 

The next day Matta went to the chase, the Chevalier de 
Grammont to the bagnio, and the Marquis to his country- 
house. While the latter was making the necessary prepara- 
tions for his guests, not forgetting the music, and Matta 
pursuing his game to get an appetite, the Chevalier was 
meditating on the execution of his project. 

As soon as he had regulated his plan of operations in his 
own mind, he privately sent anonymous intelligence to the 
officer of the guard at the palace, that the Marquis de Senan- 
tGS had had some v^ords with Monsieur de Matta the preced- 
ing night at supper ; that the one had gone out in the morn- 
ing, and that the other could not be found in the city. 

Madame Royale, alarmed at this advice, immediately L^e^t 
for the Chevalier de Grammont : he appeared surprised when 
her Highness mentioned the affair : he confessed, indeed, that 
some high words had i^assed between them, but that he did 
not believe either of them would have remembered them the, 
next day. He said, that if no mischief had yet taken |)]ace, 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 79 

the best way would be to secure them both until the morning, 
and that if they could be found, he would undertake to 
reconcile them, and to obliterate all grievances : in this there 
was no great difficulty. On inquiry at the Marquis's, they 
were Informed that he was gone to his country-house : there 
certainly he was, and there they found him ; the officer put 
him under an arrest, without assigning any reason for so 
doing, and left him in very great surprise. 

Immediately upon Matta's return from hunting, her Royal 
Highness sent the same officer to desire him to give her his 
word that he would not stir out that evening. This com- 
pliment very much surprised him, more particularly as no 
reason was assigned for. it. He was expected at a good 
entertainment, he was dying with hunger, and nothing ap- 
peared to him more unreasonable than to oblige him to stay 
at home, in a situation like the present ; but he had given 
his word, and not knowing to what this might tend, his only 
resource was to send for his friend ; but his friend did not 
come to him until his return from the country. He had 
there found the Marquis in the midst of his fiddlers, and very 
much vexed to find himself a prisoner in his own house on 
account of Matta, whom he was waiting for in order to feast 
him. He complained of him bitterly to the Chevalier de 
Grammont: he said that he did not believe that he liad 
ofiended him ; but that, since he was very desirous of a quar- 
rel, he desired the Chevalier to acquaint him, if he felt the 
least displeasure on the present occasion, he should, on the 
very first opportunity, receive what is called satisfaction. 
The Chevalier de Grammont assured him, that no such 
thought had ever entered the mind of Matta ; that, on the 
contrary, he knew that he very greatly esteemed him ; that 
all this could alone arise from the extreme tenderness of his 
lady, who being alarmed upon the report of the servants 



so MEMOIRS OF 

who waited at table, must liavc gone to Ler Royal Highness, 
in order to prevent any unpleasant consequences ; that he 
thought this the more probable, as he had often told the 
Marchioness, when speaking of Matta, that he was the best 
swordsman in France; for in truth, the poor gentleman had 
never fought without having the misfortune of killing liis 
man. 

The Marquis, being a little j)acified, said, he was very 
much obliged to him ; that he would severely chide his wife 
for her unseasonable tenderness, and that he was extremely 
desirous of again enjoying the pleasure of his dear friend 
Matta's company. 

The Chevalier de Grammont assured him that he would 
use all his endeavours for that purpose, and at the same 
time gave strict charge to his guard not to let him escape 
without orders from the court, as he seemed fully bent upon 
lighting, aiid they would be responsible for him : there was 
no occasion to say more to have him strictly watched, 
though there was no necessity for it. 

One being thus safely lodged, his next step was to secure 
the other. He returned immediately to town; and as soon 
as Matta saw him : " What the devil," said he, " is the 
meaning of this farce which I am obliged to act? For my 
jiart, I cannot understand the foolish customs of this coun- 
try : how comes it that they make me a prisoner upon my 
parole?'* "How comes it?" said the Chevalier de Gram- 
mont ; " it is because you yourself are far more unaccountable 
than all their customs : you cannot help disputing with a 
peevish fellow, whom you ought only to laugh at : some 
officious footman has no doubt been talking of your last 
night's dispute : you were seen to go out of town in the 
morning, and the Marquis soon after : was not this sufficient 
to make her Royal Highness think herself obliged to tako 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 81 

these precautions ? The Marquis is in custody ; they have 
only required your parole ; so far, therefore, from taking the 
affair in the sense you do, I should send very humbly to 
thauk her Highness for the kindness she has manifested 
towards you, in putting you under arrest, since it is only on 
your account that she interests herself in the affair. I shall 
t;ike a walk to the palace, where I will endeavour to unravel 
this mystery; in the mean time, as there is but little proba- 
bility that the matter should be settled this evening, you 
\\^ould do well to order supper ; for I shall come back to you 
immediately." 

Matta charged him not to fail to express to her Royal 
Highness the grateful sense he had of her favour, though 
in truth he as little feared the Marquis as he loved him ; 
and it is impossible to express the degree of his fortitude in 
stronger terms. 

The Chevalier de Grammont returned in about half an 
hour, with two or three gentlemen whom Matta had got 
acquainted with at the chase, and who, upon the report of 
the quarrel, waited upon him, and each offered him sepa- 
rately his services against the unassisted and pacific Marquis. 
Matta having returned them his thanks, insisted upon their 
staying supper, and put on his rohe de cJimnhre, 

As soon as the Chevalier de Grammont perceived that every 
thing coincided with his wishes, and that towards the end of 
the entertainment the toasts went merrily round, he knew he 
was sure of his man till next day. Then taking him aside, 
with the permission of the company, and making use of a 
false confidence in order to disguise a real treachery, he ac- 
quainted him, after having sworn him several times to secrecy, 
that he had at last prevailed upon the little Saint- Germain to 
grant him an interview that night ; for which reason he would 
take his leave, under pretence of going to play at court ; he 

G 



82 MEMOIRS OF 

therefore desirecl lilm fully to satisfy the company that he 
would not have left thcui on any other account, as the Pied- 
inontese are naturally mistrustful. Matta promised he would 
manage this point with discretion ; that Le would make an 
apology for him, and that there was no occasion for his per- 
sonally taking leave. Then, after congratulating him upon 
the happy posture of his affairs, he sent him away with all the 
expedition and secrecy imaginable ; so great was his fear lest 
his friend should lose the j^resent opjjortunity. 

Matta then returned to the company, much pleased with the 
confidence which had been placed in him, and with the sliare 
he had in the success of this adventure. He put himself into 
the best humour imaginable in order to divert the attention of 
his guests ; he severely satirized those, whose rage for gaming 
induced them to sacrifice to it every other consideration ; he 
loudly ridiculed the folly of the Chevalier upon this article, 
and secretly laughed at the credulity of the Piedmontese, 
whom he had deceived with so much ingenuity. 

It was late at night before the company broke up, and Matta 
went to bed, very ^Yo\l satisfied with what he had done for his 
friend ; and, if we may credit appearances, this friend enjoyed 
I lie fruit of his perfidy. The amorous Marchioness received 
liim like one who wished to enhance the A^alue of the favour 
slie bestowed. Her charms were far from being neglected ; 
and if there are any circumstances in which we may detest 
the traitor, while we profit by the treason, this was not one of 
them. And however successful the Chevalier de Grammont 
was in his intrigues, it was not owing to him that the contrary 
was not believed ; but be that as it may, being convinced, 
that in love whatever is gained by address, is gained fairly, 
it does not appear that he ever shewed the smallest degree of 
repentance for this trick. But it is now time for us to take 
him from the court of Savoy, to see him shine in that of 
France. 



COUNT GRAMr-IONT. 83 



CHAPTER Y. 

The Chevalier de Grammont, upon liis return to Fiance, 
sustained, with the greatest success, the reputation he had 
acquired abroad. Alert at play, active and vigilant in love ; 
sometimes successful, and always feared, in his intrigues ; in 
svar alike prepared for the events of good or ill fortune ; pos- 
sessing an inexhaustible fund of pleasantry in the former, and 
full of expedients and dexterity in the latter. 

Zealously attached to the Prince deConde^^ from inclination, 
he was a witness, and, if we may be allowed to say it, his 
companion, in the glory he had acquired at the celebrated 
battles of Lens, Norlinguen, and Fribourg ; ^^ and the details 
he so frequently gave of them were far from diminishing their 
lustre. 

So long as he had only some scruples of conscience, and a 
thousand interests to sacrifice, he quitted all to follow a man, 
whom strong motives and resentments, which in some manner 
appeared excusable, had withdrcawn from the paths of rec- 
titude. He adhered to him in his first disgrace, with a con- 
stancy of which there are few examples ; but he could not 
submit to the injuries which he afterwards received, and which 
such an inviolable attachment so little merited. Therefore, 
without fearing any reproach for a conduct which sufficiently 
justified itself, as he had formerly deviated from his duty, by 
entering into the service of the Prince de Conde, he thought 
he had a right to leave him to return again to his duty. 

His peace was soon made at court, where many, far more 
culpable than himself, were immediately received into favour. 

g2 



84 MEMOIRS OF 

when they desired it ; for the Queen, ^^ still terrified at the dan- 
gers into which the civil wars had plunged the state at the 
commencement of her regency, endeavoured by lenient mea- 
sures to conciliate the minds of the people. The policy of the 
minister2<) was neither sanguinary nor revengeful. His favourite 
maxim v^as rather to appease the minds of the discontented by 
lenity, than to have recourse to violent measures : to be con- 
tent with losing nothing by the war, without being at the 
expense of gaining any advantage from the enemy ; to sufler 
his character to be very severely handled, provided he could 
amass much wealth, and to spin out the minority to the 
greatest possible extent. 

His avidity to heap up riches was not alone confined to the 
thousand difi*erent means, with which he was furnished by his 
authority, and the situation in which he was placed. His 
whole pursuit was gain. He was naturally fond of gaming ; 
but he only played to enrich himself, and therefore, whenever 
he found an opportunity, he cheated. 

As he found the Chevalier de Grammont possessed a great 
deal of wit, and a great deal of money, he was a man accord- 
ing to his wishes, and soon became one of his set. The 
Chevalier soon perceived the artfulness and dishonesty of the 
Cardinal, and thought it was allowable in him to put in prac- 
tice those talents which he had received from nature, not only 
in his own defence, but even to attack him whenever an op- 
portunity offered. This would certainly be the place to men- 
tion these particulars ; but who can describe them with such 
ease and elegance, as may be expected by those who hav© 
heard his own relation of them ? Vain is the attempt to en- 
deavour to transcribe these entertaining anecdotes, their spirit 
.joems to evaporate upon paper ; and in whatever light they 
rtre exposed, the delicacy of their coJouring, and their beauty 
are lost. 



COU.NT GilAMiiONT. S5 

It is then enougli to say. that upon ail occasions where 
address was reciprocally employed, the Chevalier gained the 
advantage ; and that if he paid his court badly to the minister, 
he had the consolation to find, that those who suffered them- 
selves to be cheated, in the end gained no great advantage 
from their complaisance ; for they always continued in an 
abject submission, while the Chevalier de Grammont, on a 
thousand different occasions, never put himself under the least 
restraint ; of which the following is one instance. 

The Spanish army, commanded by the Prince de Conde 
and the Archduke,^^ besieged Arras. The court was advanced 
as far as Peronne.22 The enemy, by the capture of this place, 
would have procured a reputation for their army, of which 
they were in great need ; as the French, for a considerable 
time past, had evinced a superiority in every engagement. 

The Prince supported a tottering party, as far as their 
usual inactivity and irresolution permitted him ; but as in the 
events of war it is necessary to act independently on some 
occasions, which, if once suffered to escape, can never be re- 
trieved ; for want of this power it frequently happened that 
his great abilities were of no avail. The Spanish infantry 
had never recovered itself since the battle of Rocroy;23 and he 
who had ruined them by that victory, by fighting against 
them, was the only man who now, by commanding their army, 
was capable of repairing the mischief he had done them. But 
the jealousy of the generals, and the distrust attendant upon 
their counsels, tied up his hands. 

Nevertheless the siege of Arras ^^ was vigorously carried on. 
The Cardinal was very sensible how dishonourable it would 
be to suffer this place to be taken under his nose, and almost 
in sight of the King. On the other hand, it was very hazardous 
to attempt its relief, the Prince de Conde being a man who 
never neglected the smallest precaution for the security of his 



86 3IEM0IRS OF 

lines ; iukI if lines iive attacked, and not forced, the greatoKst 
danger threatens the assailants; for the more furious the 
assault, the greater is the disorder in the retreat ; and no man 
in the world knew so well as the Prince de Conde how to 
make the best use of an advantage. The army, commanded 
by Monsieur de Turenne, was considerably weaker than tliafl 
of the enemy ; it was likewise the only resource they had i^ 
depend upon. If this army was defeated, the loss of Arras 
was not the only misfortune to be dreaded. 

The Cardinal, y/hose genius was happily adapted to such 
lunctures where deceitful negotiations could extricate him out 
of difficulties, was filled with terror at the sight of imminent 
danger, or of a decisive event. He was of opinion to lay 
siege to some other place, the capture of which might prove 
an idemnification for the loss of Arras; but Monsieur de 
Turenne, who was altogether of a different opinion from the 
Cardinal, resolved to march towards the enemy, and did not 
acquaint him with his intentions until he was upon his 
march. The courier arrived in the midst of his distress, and 
redoubled his apprehensions and alarms ; but there was then 
no remedy. 

The Marshal, whose great reputation had gained him the 
confidence of the troops, had determined upon his measures 
before an express order from the court could prevent him. 
This was one of those occasions, in which the difficulties you 
encounter heighten the glory of success. Though the gene- 
ral's capacity, in some measure, afforded comfort to the court, 
tliey nevertheless were upon the eve of an event, which in 
nne way or other must terminate both their hopes and their 
fears. AYhile the rest of the courtiers were giving various 
opinions concerning the issue, the Chevalier de Grammont 
determined to be an eye-witness of it; a resolution which 
greatly surprised the court ; for those, who had seen as many 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 



actions as lie had, seemed to be exempted from such eagerness ; 
but it was in vain that his friends opposed his resohitions. 

Tlio King was pleased with his intention ; and the Queen 
appeared no less satisfied. He assured her, that he would 
bring her good news ; and she promised to embrace him, if 
he was as good as his w^ord. The Cardinal made the same 
promise. To the latter, however, he did not pay much atten- 
tion ; yet he believed it sincere, because the keeping of it 
would cost him nothing. 

He set out in the dusk of the evening with Caseau, whom 
Monsieur de Turenne had sent express to their Majesties. 
The Duke of York^^ and the Marquis d'Humieres^^ commanded 
under the Marshal. The latter was upon duty when the 
Chevalier arrived, it being scarce daylight. The Duke of 
York did not at first recollect him ; but the Marquis d'Hu- 
mieres, running to him with open arms, " I thought," said he, 
" if any man came from court to pay us a visit upon such an 
occasion as this, it would be the Chevalier de Grammont. 
Well," continued he, "what are they doing at Peronne?*' 
" They are in great consternation," replied the Chevalier. 
'' And what do they think of us T' " They think," said he, 
" that if you beat the Prince, you will do no more than your 
duty ; if you are beaten, they will think you fools and mad- 
men, thus to have risked every thing, without considering the 
consequences." " Truly," said the Marquis, " you bring us 
very comfortable news. Will you now go to Monsieur de 
Turenne's quarters, to acquaint him with it ; or will you 
choose rather to repose yourself in mine ? for you have been 
riding post all last night, and perhaps did not experience much 
rest in the preceding." " Where have you heard, that the 
Chevalier de Grammont had ever any occasion for sleep?" 
replied he; "only order mo a hon.^e, that I m.ay have the 



88 MKMOIUS OF 

honour to attend the Duke of York ; for, most likely, he is 
not in the field so early, except to visit some posts/' 

The advanced guard was only at cannon-shot from that oi 
the enemy. As soon as they arrived there, " I should like," 
said the Chevalier de Grammont, " to advance as far as the 
sentry which is posted on that eminence ; I have some friends 
and acquaintance in their army, whom I should wish to in- 
quire after ; I hope the Duke of York will give me permis- 
sion." At these words he advanced. The sentry, seeing him 
come forward directly to his post, stood upon his guard ; the 
Chevalier stopped as soon as he was within shot of him. The 
sentry answered the sign which was made to him, and made 
another to the officer, who had begun to advance as soon as he 
had seen the Chevalier come forward, and was soon up with 
him ; but seeing the Chevalier de Grammont alone, he made 
no difficulty to let him approach. He desired leave of this 
officer to inquire after some relations he had in their army, 
and at the same time asked if the Duke d'Arscot was at the 
siege. " Sir," said he, " there he is, just alighted under those 
trees, which you see on the left of our grand guard ; it is 
hardly a minute since he was here with the Prince d'Arem- 
berg, his brother, the Baron de Limbec, and Louvigny." 
" May I sec them upon parole ? " said the Chevalier. " Sir," 
said he, " if I were allowed to quit my post, I would do my- 
self the honour of accompanying you thither ; but I will send 
to acquaint them, that the Chevalier de Grammont desires to 
.'-peak to them." And, after having despatched one of his 
_ uard towards them, he returned. " Sir," said the Chevalier 
(ie Grammont, " may I take the liberty to inquire how I 
came to be known to you ?" " Is it possible," said the other, 
" that the Chevalier de Grammont should forget La Motte, 
who had the honour to serve so loni^ in his regiment?" 



COUNT GRAMMONT. SO 

" What ! is it you, my good friend, La Motte ? Truly, I was 
to blame for not remembering you, tbough you are in a dress 
very different from that which I first saw you in at Bruxelles, 
when you taught the Duchess of Guise to dance the triolets ; 
and I am afraid your affairs are not in so flourishing a condi- 
tion as they were the campaign after I had given you the 
company you mention/' They were talking in this manner, 
when the Duke d'Arscot, followed by the gentlemen above 
mentioned, came up on full gallop. The Chevalier de Gram- 
mont was saluted by the whole company before lie could say 
a word. Soon after arrived an immense number of others of 
his acquaintance, with many people, out of curiosity, on both 
sides, who, seeing him upon the eminence, assembled together 
with the greatest eagerness ; so that the two armies, without 
design, without truce, and wit'nout fraud, were going to join 
in conversation, if, by chance. Monsieur de Turenne had not 
perceived it at a distance. The sight surprised him. He 
hastened that way ; and the Marquis d'Humieres acquainted 
him with the arrival of the Chevalier de Grammont, who 
wished to speak to the sentry before he went to the head- 
quarters. He added, that he could not comprehend how the 
devil he had managed to assemble both armies around him, for 
it was hardly a minute since he had left him. " Truly," said 
Monsieur de Turenne, " he is a very extraordinary man ; but 
it is only reasonable, that he should let us now have a little 
of his company, since he has paid his first visit to the enemy." 
At these words he despatched an aide-de-camp, to recall the 
officers of his army, and to acquaint the Chevalier de Gram- 
mont with his impatience to see him^ 

This order arrived at the same time, with one of the same 
nature, to the enemy's officers. The Prince de Conde, being 
informed of this peaceable interview, was not the least sur- 
prised at it, when he heard that it was occasioned by the arri- 



90 MEMOIRS OP 

val of the Clicvalicr cic Gramniont. He only gave Lussaii 
orders to recall the officers, and to desire the Chevalier to meet 
him at the same place the next day ; which the C^hevalier 
l.romised to do, provided Monsieur de Turenne should approve 
of it, as he made no doubt he would. 

His reception in the King's army was equally agreeable as 
that which he had experienced from the enemy. Monsieur de 
Turenne esteemed him no less for his frankness than for the 
poignancy of his wit : he took it very kindly that he was the 
only courtier who came to see him in a time so critical as the 
present : the questions which he asked him about the court, 
w^ere not so much for information, as to divert himself with 
his manner of relating their different apprehensions and alarms. 
The Chevalier de Grammont advised him to beat the enemy, 
if he did not choose to be answerable for an enterprise which 
he had undertaken without consulting the Cardinal. Mon- 
sieur de Turenne promised him he would exert himself to the 
utmost to follow his advice, and assured him, that if he suc- 
ceeded, he would make the Queen keep her word with him ; 
and concluded with saying, that he was not sorry the Prince 
de Conde had expressed a desire to see him. His measures 
were taken for an attack upon the lines : on this subject he 
discoursed in private with the Chevalier de Grammont, and 
concealed nothing from him except the time of execution : 
but this was all to no purpose ; for the Chevalier had seen too 
much, not to judge, from his own knowledge, and the obser- 
vations he had made, that from the situation of the army, the 
attack could be no longer deferred. 

He set oat the next day for his rendezvous, attended by a 
trumpet, and found the Prince at the place which Monsieur 
de Lussan had described to him the evening before. As soon 
as he alighted, '' Is it possible,'' said the Prince, embracing 
him, " that this can be tlie Chevalier de Grammont, and thnt. 



cou^:t grammoxt. 91 

I slioukl see liim in the contrary party ? " " It is you, my 
Lordj wliom I see there/' replied the Chevalier, " and I refer 
it to yourself, whether it was the fault of the Chevalier de 
Grammont, or your own, that we now embrace different in- 
terests/' '' I must confess," said the Prince, " that if there 
are some who have abandoned me like base, ungrateful 
wretches, you have left me, as I left myself, like a man of 
honour, who thinks himself in the right : but let us forget all 
cause of resentment, and tell me what was your motive for 
coming here, you, v/hom I thought at Peronne with the court/' 
'' Must I tell you?" said he; "why, faith then, I came to 
save your life. I know that you cannot help being in the 
midst of the enemy in a day of battle ; it is only necessary 
for your horse to be shot under you, and to be taken in arms, 
to meet with the same trea,tment from this Cardinal, as your 
uncle Montmorency ^^ did from the other. I come, therefore, 
to hold a horse in readiness for you, in case of a similar mis- 
fortune, that you may not lose your head." " It is not the 
first time,'' said the Prince, smiling, " that you have rendered 
me this service, though the being taken prisoner at that time 
could not have been so dangerous to me as now/' 

From this conversation, the^'- passed to more entertaining 
subjects. The Prince asked him many questions concerning 
the court, the ladies, play, and about his amours ; and return- 
ing insensibly to the present situation of affairs, the Chevalier 
having inquired after some officers of his acquaintance, who 
had remained with him, the Prince told him that if he chose, 
he might go to the lines, where he would have an opportunity 
not only of seeing those whom he inquired after, but likewise 
the disposition of the quarters and entrenchments. To this 
be consented, and the Prince, having shewn him all the works, 
and attended him. back to their rendezvous, " Well, Chevalier," 
said he, " when do you think we shall see you again ? " 



92 MK.nOlRS OF 

*' Faith," replied he, " you have used me so handsomely, that 
I shall conceal nothing from you. Hold yourself in readiness 
an hour before daybreak ; for, you may depend upon it, we 
shall attack you to-morrow morning. I would not have ac- 
quainted you with this, perhaps, had I been intrusted with the 
secret : but, nevertheless, in the present case you may believe 
me." " You are still the same man," said the Prince, again 
embracing him. The Chevalier returned to Monsieur de 
Turenne*s camp towards night : every preparation was then 
making for the attack of the lines, and it was no longer a 
secret among the troops. 

" Well, Monsieur le Chevalier, were they all very glad to 
see you ?" said Monsieur de Turenne ; " the Prince, no doubt, 
received you with the greatest kindness, and asked a great 
number of questions." " He has shewn me all the civility 
imaginable," replied the Chevalier, " and, to convince me he 
did not take me for a spy, he led me round the lines and en- 
trenchments, and shewed me the preparations he had made 
for your reception." "And what is his opinion?" said the 
Marshal. " He is persuaded that you will attack him to- 
night, or to-morrow by daybreak ; for you great captains," 
continued the Chevalier, " see through each other's designs in 
a wonderful manner." 

Monsieur de Turenne, with pleasure, received this com- 
mendation from a man who was not indiscriminately accus- 
tomed to bestow praise. He communicated to him the dispo- 
sition of the attack ; and at the same time acquainted him, 
that he was very happy that a man who had seen so many 
actions was to be present at this ; and that he esteemed it no 
small advantage to have the benefit of his advice : but as he 
believed that the remaining part of the night would be hardly 
suflBcient for his repose, after having passed the former 
without any refreshment, he consigned him to the Mar- 



COUNT GllAMMOXT. 93 

quis (ri-Iumieres, who provided him with a supper and a 
Jodging. 

The next day the lines of Arras were attacked, wherein 
Monsieur de Turenne, being victorious, added additional lus- 
tre to his former glory ; and the Prince de Conde, though 
vanquished, lost nothing of his former reputation. 

There are so many accounts of this celebrated battle, that 
to mention it here would be altogether superfluous. The 
Chevalier de Grammont, who, as a volunteer, was permitted 
to go into every part, has given a better description of it than 
any other person. Monsieur do Turenne reaped great advan- 
tage from that activity which never forsook the Chevalier 
either in peace or war ; and that presence of mind which en- 
abled him to carry orders, as coming from the general, so very 
a-propos, that Monsieur de Turenne, otherwise very particular 
in such matters, thanked him, when the battle was over. In 
the presence of all his officers, and despatched him to court 
with the first news of his success. 

All that is generally necessary in these expeditions is, to be 
accustomed to hard riding, and to be well provided with fresh 
horses : but he had a great many other obstacles to surmount. 
In the first place, the parties of the enemy were dispersed 
over all the country, and obstructed his passage. Then he 
had to prepare against greedy and officious courtiers, who, on 
such occasions, post themselves in all the avenues, in order to 
cheat the poor courier out of his news. However, his address 
preserved him from the one, and deceived the- others. 

He had taken eight or ten troopers, conamanded by an officer 
of his acquaintance, to escort him half-way to Bapaume ; ^ 
being persuaded that the greatest danger would lie between 
the camp and the first stage. He had not proceeded a league 
before he was convinced of the truth of what he suspected^ 



"■^ ME.MOUtS OF 

;ind turning to tlio officer, who followed him closely, "• If you 
are not well mounted," said he, " I would advise you to return 
to the camp; for my jjart, I shall set si^urs to my horse, and 
make the best of my way." « Sir," said the officer, « I hope 
I shall be able to keep you company, at whatever rate vou go, 
tintil you are out of all danger." " I doubt that," replied the 
Chevalier, " for those gentlemen there seem prepared to pay 
us a visit." " Don't you see," said the officer, « they are some 
of our own people who are grazing their horses?" « No," 
said the Chevalier; " but I see very well that they are some 
of the enemy's troopers." Upon which, observing to him 
that they were mounting, he order(r' the horsemen that es- 
corted him to prepare themselves to make a diversion, and 
he himself set off full speed towards Bapaume. 

He was mounted upon a very swift English horse ; but 
liaving entangled himself in a hollow way where the ground 
was deep and miry, he soon had the troopers at his heels, 
who, supposing him to be some officer of rank, would not be 
deceived, but continued to pursue him without paying any 
attention to the others. The best mounted of the party began 
to draw near him; for the English horses, swift as the wind 
on even ground, proceeding but very indifferently in bad 
roads, the trooper presented his carbine, and cried out to him, 
at some distance, « Good quarter." The Chevalier de Gram- 
mont, who perceived that they gained upon him, and that 
whatever efforts his horse made in such heavy ground, lio 
must be overtaken at last, immediately quitted the road to 
Bapaume, and took a causeway to the left, which led quite a 
difierent way : as soon as ho had gained it, he drew up, as if to 
hear the proposal of the trooper, which afforded his horse an 
opportunity of recovering himself; while his enemy, mistaking 
his intention, and thinking that he only waited to surrender, 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 95 

immediately exerted every effort, that lie might take him 
before the rest of his companions, who were following, could 
arrive, and by this means almost killed his horse. 

One minute's reflection made the Chevalier consider what 
a disagreeable adventure it would be, thus coming from so 
glorious a victory, and the dangers of a battle so warmly 
disputed, to be taken by a set of scoundrels who had not been 
in it, and, instead of being received in triumph, and embraced 
by a great queen for the important news with which he was 
charged, to see himself stripped by the vanquished. 

During this short meditation, the trooper who followed him 
was arrived vrithin shot, and still presenting his carbine, 
offered him good quarter : but the Chevalier de Grammont, to 
whom this offer, and the manner in which it was made, were 
equally displeasing, made a sign to him to lower his piece ; 
and perceiving his horse to be in wind, he lowered his hand, 
rode off like lightning, and left the trooper in such astonish- 
ment that he even forgot to fire at him. 

As soon as he arrived at Bapaume, he changed horses : the 
commander of this place shewed him the greatest respect, 
assuring him that no person had yet passed ; that he would 
keep the secret, and that he would retain all that followed 
him, except the couriers of Monsieur de Turenne. 

He now had only to guard against those who would be 
v/atching foi him about the environs of Peronne, to return as 
soon as they saw him, and carry his news to court, without 
being acquainted with any of the particulars. He knew very 
well that Marshal du Plessis, Marshal de Yilleroy and 
Gaboury, had boasted of this to the Cardinal before his de- 
parture. Wherefore, to elude this snare, he hired two well- 
mounted horsemen at Bapaum.e, and as soon as he had got a 
league from that place, and after giving them each two louis 
d'orSj to secure their fidelity, he ordered them to ride on before. 



96 MEMOIRS OF 

to appear very much terrified, and to tell all tliose who should 
ask them any questions, " That all was lost ; that the Cheva- 
lier 4e Grammont had stopped at Bapaume, having no great 
inclination to be the messenger of ill news ; and that as for 
themselves, they had been pursued by the enemy's troopers, 
who were spread over the whole country since the defeat. 

Every thing succeeded to his wish : the horsemen were 
intercepted by Gaboury, whose eagerness had outstripped the 
two marshals ; but whatever questions were asked them, they 
acted their parts so well, that Peronne was already in 
consternation, and rumours of the defeat were whispered 
among the courtiers, when the Chevalier de Grammont 
arrived. 

Nothing so much enhances the value of good news, as when 
a false alarm of bad has preceded ; yet, though the Chevalier's 
was accompanied with this advantage, none but their Majesties 
received it with that transport of joy it deserved. 

The queen kept her promise to him in the most fascinating 
manner : she embraced him before the whole court ; the king 
appeared no less delighted ; but the cardinal, whether with 
the view of lessening the merit of an action w^iich deserved a 
handsome reward, or whether it was from a return of that 
insolence which always accompanied him in prosperity, ap- 
peared at first not to pay any attention to what he said, and 
being afterwards informed that the lines had been forced, that 
the Spanish army was beaten, and that Arras was reJieved: 
'• Is the Prince de Conde taken V said he. " No," replied 
the Chevalier de Grammont. " He is dead, then, I suppose ?" 
said the cardinal. " Not so, neither," answered the Chevalier. 
" Fine news indeed," said the cardinal, with an air of con- 
tempt ; and at these words he went into the queen's cabinet 
with their Majesties. And happy it was for the Chevalier 
that he did so, for without doubt he would have given him 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 97 

some sev^ere reply ^^ in resentment for those two fine questions^ 
and the conclusion he had drawn from them. 

The court was filled with the cardinal's spies : the Cheva- 
lier, as is usual on such an occasion, was surrounded by a 
crowd of courtiers and inquisitive people, and he was very 
glad to ease himself of some part of the load which lay heavy 
on his heart, within the hearing of the cardinal's creatures, 
and which he would perhaps have told him to his face. 
'' Faith, gentlemen," said he, with a sneer, " there is nothing 
like being zealous and eager in the service of kings and great 
princes ; you have seen what a gracious reception his Majesty 
has given me ; you are likewise witnesses in what an obliging 
manner the queen kept her promise with me ; but as for the 
cardinal, he has received my news as if he gained no more 
by it than he did by the death of Peter Mazarine." ^o 

This was sufficient to terrify all those who were sincerely 
attached to him ; and the best-established fortune would have 
been ruined at some period by a jest much less severe : for it 
was delivered in the presence of witnesses, who were only 
desirous of having an opportunity of representing it in its 
utmost malignancy, to make a merit of their vigilance with a 
powerful and absolute minister. Of this the Chevalier de 
Grammont was thoroughly convinced; yet whatever detri- 
ment he foresaw might arise from it, he could not help being 
much pleased with what he had said. 

The spies very faithfully discharged their duty : however, 
the affair took a very different turn from what they expected. 
The next day, when the Chevalier de Grammont was present 
while their Majesties were at dinner, the cardinal came in, 
and coming up to him, every body making way for him out 
of respect : " Chevalier," said he, " the news which you have 
brought is very good, their Majesties are very well satisfied 
with it : and to convince you it is more advantageous to me 

n 



98 MEMOIRS OF 

than the death of Peter Mazarine, if you will come and dine 
with me we will have some play together ; for the queen 
will give us something to play for, over and above her first 
promise." 

In this manner did the Chevalier de Grammont dare to 
provoke a powerful minister, and this was all the resentment 
which the least vindictive of all statesmen expressed on the 
occasion. It was indeed very unusual for so young a man to 
reverence the authority of ministers no farther than as they 
were themselves respectable by their merit : for this, his own 
breast, as well as the whole court, applauded him, and he en- 
joyed the satisfaction of being the only man who durst pre- 
serve the least shadow of liberty, in a general state of servi- 
tude ; but it was perhaps owing to the cardinal's passing over 
this insult with impunity, that he afterwards drew upon him- 
self some difficulties, by other rash expressions less fortunate 
in the event. 

In the mean time the court returned : the cardinal, who 
was sensible that he could no longer keep his master in a 
state of tutelage, being himself worn out with cares and sick- 
ness, and having amassed treasures he knew not what to do 
with, and being sufficiently loaded with the weight of public 
odium, he turned all his thoughts towards terminating, in a 
manner the most advantageous for France, a ministry which 
iiad so cruelly shaken that kingdom. Thus, while he was 
earnestly laying the foundations of a peace so ardently wished 
for, pleasure and plenty began to reign at court. 

The Chevalier de Grammont experienced for a long time a 
variety of fortune in love and gaming : he was esteemed by 
the courtiers, beloved by beauties whom he neglected, and a 
dangerous favourite of those whom he admired ; more success- 
ful in play than in his amours ; but the one indemnifying him 
;r want of success in the other, he was always full of life and 



COUNT GRAMMO>T. 90 

spirits ; and in all transactions of importance, always a man 
of honour. 

It is a pity tliat Tve must be forced here to interrupt the 
course of his history, by an interyal of some years, as bas been 
already done at tbe commencement of these memoirs : in a 
life where the most minute circumstances are always singular 
and diverting, we can meet with no chasm whicb does not 
afford regret ; but whether lie did not think tliem worthy of 
holding a place among his other adventures, or that he has 
only preserved a confused idea of them, we must pass to the 
parts of these fragments wbicli are better ascertained, that we 
may arrive at the subject of his journey to England. 

The peace of the Pyrenees,^^ the king's marriage,^^ ||>e return 
of the Prince de Conde,^ and the death of the cardinal, gave 
a new face to the state. The eyes of the whole nation were 
fixed upon their king, who, for nobleness of mien, and grace- 
fulness of person, had no equal ; but it was not then known 
that he was possessed of those superior abilities, v/hich, filling 
his subjects with admiration, in the end made him so formid- 
able to Europe. Love and ambition, the invisible springs of 
the intrigues and cabals of all courts, attentively observed his 
first steps : pleasure promised herself an absolute empire over 
a prince who had been kept in ignorance of the necessary 
rules of government, and ambition had no hopes of reigning 
in the court except in the minds of those who were able to 
dispute the management of affairs ; when men were surprised 
to see the king on a sudden display such brilliant abilities, 
which prudence, in some measure necessary, had so long 
obliged him to conceal. 

An application, inimical to the pleasures which generally 
attract that age, and which unlimited power very seldom 
refuses, attached him solely to the cares of government . all 

H 2 



100 MEMOIRS OF 

admired this wonderful change, but all did not find their 
account in it : the great lost their consequence before an ab- 
solute master ; and the courtiers approached with reverential 
awe the sole object of their respects, and the sole master of 
their fortunes : those who had conducted themselves like petty 
tyrants in their provinces, and on the frontiers, were now no 
more than governors : favours, according to the king's plea- 
sure, were sometimes conferred on merit, and sometimes for 
services done to the state ; but to importune, or to menace 
the court, was no longer the method to obtain them. 

The Chevalier de Grammont regarded his master s atten- 
tion to the affairs of state as a prodigy : he could not con 
ceive how he could submit, at his age, to the rules he pre- 
scribed himself, or that he should giv^e up so many hours of 
pleasure, to devote them to the tiresome duties, and laborious 
functions of government ; but he blessed the Lord that hence- 
forward no more homage was to be paid, no more court to be 
made, but to him alone, to whom they were justly due. Dis- 
daining as he did the servile adoration usually paid to a mi- 
nister, he could never crouch before the power of the two car- 
dinals who succeeded each other : he neither worshipped the 
arbitrary power of the one, nor gave his approbation to the 
artifices of the other : he had never received any thing from 
Cardinal Richelieu but an abbey, which, on account of his 
rank, could not be refused him ; and he never acquired any 
thing from ^Mazarine but what he won of him at play. 

By many years' experience under an able general he had 
acquired a talent for war ; but this, during a general peace, 
was of no farther service to him : he therefore thought, that, 
in the midst of a court flourishing in beauties, and abounding 
in wealth, he could not employ himself better, than in endea- 
vouring to gain the good opinion of his master, in making 



COUNT GllAMMONT. 101 

tiie Lest use of those advantages which nature had given 
him for play, and in putting in practice new stratagems in 
love. 

He succeeded very well in the two first of these projects, 
and as he had from that time laid it down as the rule of his 
conduct, to attach himself solely to the king in all his views 
of preferment ; to have no regard for favour unless when it 
was supported by merit; to make himself beloved by the 
courtiers, and feared by the minister; to dare to undertake 
any thing in order to do good, and to engage in nothing at 
the expense of innocence ; he soon became one in all the 
king's parties of pleasure, without gaining the ill-will of the 
courtiers. In play he was successful, in love unfortunate; 
or, to speak more properly, his restlessness and jealousy over- 
came his natural prudence, in a situation wherein he had most 
occasion for it. La Motte Houdancourt was one of the maids 
of honour to the queen dowager, and, though no sparkling- 
beauty, she had drawn away lovers from the celebrated Mene- 
ville.^^ It was sufficient in those days, for the king to cast his 
eye upon a young lady of the court to inspire her with hopes, 
and often with tender sentiments; but if he spoke to her 
more than once, the courtiers took it for granted, and those 
who had either pretensions to, or love for her, respectfully 
withdrew both the one and the other, and afterwards only 
paid her respect ; but the Chevalier de Grammont thought 
fit to act quite otherwise, perhaps to preserve a singularity 
of character, which upon the present occasion was of no 
avail. 

He had never before thought of her; but as soon as he 
found that she was honoured with the king's attention, he 
was of opinion that she was likewise deserving of his : hav- 
ing attached himself to her, he soon became very troublesome, 
without convincing^ her he vras much in love : she '^^rew 



102 MEMOIRS OF 

weary of his persecutions -, but lie would not desist, neither 
on account of her ill-treatment, nor of her threats. This con- 
duct of his at first made no great noise, because she was in 
hopes that he would change his behaviour ; but finding hrm 
rashly persist in it, she complained of him : and then it was 
that he perceived that if love renders all conditions equal, it 
is not so between rivals. He was banished the court, and not 
finding any place in France which could console him for what 
he most regretted, the presence and sight of his prince, after 
having made some slight reflections upon his disgrace, and 
bestowed a few imprecations against her who was the cause of 
it, he at last formed the resolution of visiting England. 



COUXT GRAMMONT. 103 



CHAPTER YI. 

Curiosity to see a man equally famous for Lis crimes and 
Ills elevation, had once before induced tbe Chevalier de Gram- 
mont to visit England. Reasons of state assume great pri- 
vileges : whatever appears advantageous is lawful ; and every 
thing that is necessary is honourable in politics. While the 
king of England sought the protection of Spain in the Low 
Countries, and that of the States-general in Holland, other 
powers sent splendid embassies to Cromwell. 

This man, whose ambition had opened him a way to sove- 
reign power by the greatest crimes, maintained himself in it 
by accomplishments which seemed to render him worthy of it 
by their lustre. The nation, of all Europe the least sub- 
missive, patiently bore a yoke which did not even leave her 
the shadow of that liberty of which she is so jealous ; and 
Cromwell, master of the commonwealth, under the title of 
Protector, feared at home, but yet more dreaded abroad, was 
at his highest pitch of glory when he was seen by the Che- 
valier de Grammont ; but the Chevalier did not see any ap- 
pearance of a court. One part of the nobility proscribed, the 
other removed from employments ; an affectation of purity of 
manners, instead of the luxury which the pomp of courts dis- 
plays, all taken together, presented nothing but sad and seri- 
ous objects in the finest city in the world ; and therefore the 
Chevalier acquired nothing by this voyage, but the idea of 
some merit in a profligate man, and the admiration of some 
concealed beauties he had found means to discover. 

Affairs wore quite a different appearance at his second voy- 



104 MEMOIRS OF 

age. The joy for the restoration of the royal family still 
appeared in all parts : the nation, fond of change and norelty, 
tasted the pleasure of a natural government, and seemed to 
breathe again after a long oppression. In short, the same 
people, who, by a solemn abjuration, had excluded even the 
posterity of their lawful sovereign, exhausted themselves in 
festivals and rejoicings for his return.^^ 

The Chevalier de Grammont arrived about two years after 
the restoration : the reception he met with in this court soon 
made him forget the other ; and the engagements he in the 
end contracted in England, lessened the regret he had in 
leaving France. 

This was a desirable retreat for an exile of his disposition : 
every thing flattered his taste ; and if the adventures he had 
in this country were not the most considerable, they were at 
least the most agreeable of his life. But before we relate 
them, it will not be improper to give some account of the 
English court, as it was at that period. 

The necessity of affairs had exposed Charles II. from his 
earliest youth, to the toils and perils of a bloody war : the 
fate of the king, his father, had left him for inheritance no- 
thing but his misfortunes and disgraces : they overtook him 
everywhere ; but it was not until he had struggled with his 
ill-fortune to the last extremity, that he submitted to the 
decrees of Providence. 

All those who were either great on account of their birth 
or their loyalty, had followed him into exile ; and all the 
young persons of the greatest distinction, having afterwards 
joined him, composed a court wortliy of a better fate. 

Plenty and prosperity, which arc thought to tend only to 
corrupt manners, found nothing to spoil in an indigent and 
wandering court. Necessity, on the contrary, which produces 
a thousand advantages whether we will or no, served them 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 105 

for education ; and nothing was to be seen among them hut 
an emulation in glory, politeness, and virtue. 

With this little court, in such high esteem for merit, the 
king of England returned two years prior to the period we 
mention, to ascend a throne, which to all appearances he was 
to fill as worthily as the most glorious of his predecessors. 
The magnificence displayed on this occasion was renewed at 
his coronation.^^ The death of the Duke of Gloucester,^^ and 
of the Princess Royal,^^ which followed soon after, had inter- 
rupted the course of this splendour, by a tedious mourning, 
which they quitted at last to prepare for the reception of the 
Infanta of Portugal.^^ 

It was in the height of the rejoicings they were making 
for this new queen, in all the splendour of a brilliant court, 
that the Chevalier de Grammont arrived to contribute to its 
magnificence and diversions. 

Accustomed as he was to the grandeur of the court of 
France, he was surprised at the politeness and splendour of 
the court of England. The king was inferior to none either 
in shape or air ; ^^ his wit was pleasant ; his disposition easy 
and affable ; his soul, susceptible of opposite impressions, was 
compassionate to the unhappy, inflexible to the wicked, and 
tender even to excess ; he shewed great abilities in urgent 
aflfairs, but was incapable of application to any that were not 
so : his heart was often the dupe, but oftener the slave, of his 
engagements. 

The character of the Duke of York'*^ was entirely different : 
he had the reputation of undaunted courage, an inviolable 
attachment for his word, great economy in his afiairs, hauteur, 
application, arrogance, each in their turn : a scrupulous ob- 
server of the rules of duty and the laws of justice ; he was 
accounted a faithful friend, and an implacable enemy. 

His morality and justice, struggling for some time with 



^^^ ME.MCIUS OP 



prejiulice, liad at last triumphed, by his acknowledging for his 
^7Ife Miss IIyde,« maid of honour to the Princess Royal, whom 
lie had secretly married in Holland. Her father,*) from that 
time prime minister of England, supported by this new in- 
terest, soon rose to the head of affairs, and had almost ruined 
them : not that he wanted capacity, but he was too self- 
sufficient. 

The Dukeof Ormond-M possessed the confidence and esteem 
of his master: the greatness of his services, the splendour of 
his merit and his birth, and the fortune he had abandoned in 
adhering to the fate of his prince, rendered him worthy of it : 
nor durst the courtiers even murmur at seeing him grand 
steward of the household, first lord of the bedchamber, and 
lord lieutenant of Ireland. He exactly resembled the Mar- 
shal de Grammont, in the turn of his wit and the nobleness 
ov his manners, and like him was the honour of his master's 
court. 

The Duke of Buckingham and the Earl of St. Albans *''- 
were the same in England as they appeared in France : the 
one, full of wit and vivacity, dissipated, without splendour, 
an immense estate upon which he had just entered : "6 the other, 
a man of no great genius, had raised himself a considerable 
fortune from nothing, and by losing at play, and keeping a 
great table, made it appear greater than it was. 

Sir George Berkley,^? afterwards Earl of Falmouth, was the 
confidant and favourite of the king: he commanded the 
Duke of York's regiment of guards, and governed the duke 
himself. He had nothing very remarkable either in his wit, 
or lus person ; but his sentiments were worthy of the fortune 
which awaited him, when, on the very point of his elevation, 
lie was killed at sea. Never did disinterestedness so perfectly 
characterize the greatness of the soul: he had no views but 
what tended to the glory of his master : l,is credit was never 



COUNT grammo:nt. lOT 

employed but in advising him to reward services, or to confer 
favours on merit : so polished in conversation, that the greater 
his power, the greater was his humility ; and so sincere in 
all his proceedings, that he would never have been taken for 
a courtier. 

The Duke of Ormond's sons and his nephews had been in 
the king's court during his exile, and were far from diminish- 
ing its lustre after his return. The Earl of Arran"^ had a 
singular address in all kinds of exercises, played well at tennis 
and on the guitar, and was pretty successful in gallantry. 
His elder brother, the Earl of Ossory,"^^ was not so lively, but 
of the most liberal sentiments, and of great probity. 

The elder of the Hamiltons,^^ their cousin, was the man who 
of all the court dressed best : he was well made in his person, 
and possessed those happy talents which lead to fortune, and 
procure success in love : he was a most assiduous courtier, 
had the most lively wit, the most polished manners, and the 
most punctual attention to his master imaginable : no person 
danced better, nor was any one a more general lover : a merit 
of some account in a court entirely devoted to love and gal- 
lantry. It is not at all surprising, that with these qualities 
he succeeded my Lord Falmouth in the king's favour ; but it 
is very extraordinary that he should have experienced the 
same destiny, as if this sort of war had been declared against 
merit only, and as if this sort of combat was fatal to none 
but such as had certain hopes of a splendid fortune. This, 
however, did not happen till some years afterwards. 

The beau Sidney,^^ less dangerous than he appeared to be, 
had not sufficient vivacity to support the impression which 
his jSgure made ; but little Jermyn was on all sides successful 
in his intrigues. The old Earl of Saint Albans, his uncle, had 
for a long time adopted him, though the youngest of all his 
nephews. It is well known what a table the good man kept 



108 MKMOIRS OF 

at Paris, while the king his master was starving at Brussels, 
and the queen dowager, his mistress, lived not over well in 
France.^- 

Jenny n,^^ supported by his uncle's wealth, found it no diffi- 
cult matter to make a considerable figure upon his arrival at 
the court of the Princess of Orange : the j)oor courtiers of 
the king her brother could not vie with him in point of equip- 
age and magniiScence ; and these two articles often produce as 
much success in love as real merit : there is no necessity for 
any other example than the present ; for though Jermyn was 
brave, and certainly a gentleman, yet he had neither brilliant 
actions, nor distinguished rank, to set him off; and as for his 
figure, there was nothing advantageous in it. He was little ; 
his head was large and his legs small ; his features were not 
disagreeable, but he was affected in his carriage and behaviour. 
All his wit consisted in expressions learnt by rote, which he 
occasionally employed either in raillery or in love. This 
Mas the whole foundation of the merit of a man so formidable 
in amours. 

The Princess Royal was the first who was taken with him i^"^ 
Miss Hyde seemed to be following the steps of her mistress : 
this immediately brought him into credit, and his reputation 
was established in England before his arrival. Prepossession 
in the minds of women is sufficient to find access to their 
hearts : Jermyn found them in dispositions so favourable for 
him, that he had nothing to do but to speak. 

It was in vain they perceived that a reputation so lightly 
established, was still more weakly sustained : the prejudice 
remained : the Countess of Castlemaine,^'"^ a woman lively and 
discerning, followed the delusive shadow ; and though unde- 
ceived in a reputation which promised so much, and performed 
BO little, she nevertheless continued in her infatuation : she 
even persisted in it, until she was upon the point of embroiling 



COUNT GRAMMONT. l09 

lierself with the king ; so great was this firsc instance of her 
constancy. 

Such were the heroes of the court. As for the heauties, 
yon could not look anywhere without seeing them : those of 
the greatest reputation were this same Countess of Castle- 
maine, afterwards Duchess of Cleveland, Lady Chesterfield, 
Lady Shrewsbury,^^ the Mrs. Roberts, Mrs. Middleton, the Miss 
Brooks,^'^ and a thousand others, who shone at court with equal 
lustre ; but it was Miss Hamilton and Miss Stewart who were 
its chief ornaments.^^ The new queen gave but little additional 
l)rilliancy to the court, either in her person, or in her retinue, 
which was then composed of the Countess de Panetra, who 
came over with her in quality of lady of the bedchamber ; six 
frights, who called themselves maids of honour, and a duenna, 
another monster, who took the title of governess to those 
extraordinary beauties. 

Among the men were Francisco de Melo, brother to the 
Countess de Panetra; one Taurauvedez, who called himself 
Don Pedro Francisco Correo de Silva, extremely handsome, 
but a greater fool than all the Portuguese put together : he was 
more vain of his names than of his person ; but the Duke of 
Buckingham, a still greater fool than he, though more addicted 
to raillery, gave him the additional name of Peter of the 
Wood. He was so enraged at this, that, after many fruitless 
complaints and ineffectual menaces, poor Pedro de Silva was 
obliged to leave England, while the happy duke kept posses- 
sion of a Portuguese nymph more hideous than the queen's 
maids of honour, whom he had taken from him, as well as 
two of his names. Besides these, there were six chaplains, 
four bakers, a Jew perfumer, and a certain officer, probably 
without an office, who called himself her highnesses barber. 
Katharine de Braganza was far from appearing with splendour 
in the charming court wl.erc sh.e came to reign ; however, in 



110 MEMOIRS OF 

the end she was pretty succcssful.^*-^ The Chevalier de Gram- 
mont, who had been long known to the royal family, and to 
most of the gentlemen of the court, had only to get acquainted 
with the ladies ; and for this he wanted no interpreter : they 
all spoke French enough to explain themselves, and they all 
understood it sufficiently to comprehend what he had to say 
to them. 

The queen's court was always very numerous ; that of the 
duchess was less so, but more select. This princess ^^ had a 
majestic air, a pretty good shape, not much beauty, a great 
deal of wit, and so just a discernment of merit, that, whoever 
of either sex were possessed of it, were sure to be distin- 
guished by her : an air of grandeur in all her actions made 
her be considered as if born to support the rank which placed 
her so near the throne. The queen dowager returned after 
the marriage of the Princess Royal, and it was in her court 
that the two others met.^^ 

The Chevalier de Grammont was soon liked by all parties : 
those who had not known him before, were surprised to see 
a Frenchman of his disposition. The king's restoration hav- 
ing drawn a great number of foreigners from all countries to 
the court, the French were rather in disgrace ; for, instead 
of any persons of distinction having appeared among the first 
who came over, they had only seen some insignificant pup- 
pies, each striving to outdo the other in folly and extrava- 
gance, despising every thing which was not like themselves, 
and thinking they introduced the hel air^ by treating the Eng- 
lish as strangers in their own country. 

The Chevalier de Grammont, on the contrary, was familiar 
with every body : he gave in to their customs, eat of every 
thing, and easily habituated himself to their manner of liv- 
in;^, which he looked upon as neither vulgar nor barbarous ; 
and as ho slicwcd a natural complaisance, instead of the im- 



COUNT GSAMMONT. Ill 

pertinent affectation of the others, all the. nation was charmed 
with a man, who agreeably indemnified them for what they 
had suffered from the folly of the former. 

He first of all made his court to the king, and was of all 
his parties of pleasure : he played high, and lost but seldom : 
he found so little difference in the manners and conversation 
of those with whom he chiefly associated, that he could 
scarcely believe he was out of his own country. Every thing, 
which could agreeably engage a man of his disposition, pre- 
sented itself to his different humours, as if the pleasures of 
the court of France had quitted it to accompany him in his 
exile. 

He was every day engaged for some entertainment ; and 
' those who wished to regale him in their turn, were obliged to 
take their measures in time, and to invite him eight or ten 
days beforehand. These importunate civilities became tire- 
some in the long-run ; but as they seemed indispensable to a 
man of his disposition, and as they were the most genteel 
people of the court who loaded him with them, he submitted 
with a good grace ; but always reserved to himself the liberty 
of supping at home. 

His supper-hour depended upon play, and was indeed very 
uncertain ; but his supper was always served up with the 
greatest elegance, by the assistance of one or two servants, 
who were excellent caterers and good attendants, but under- 
stood cheating still better. 

The company, at these little entertainments, was not nu- 
merous, but select : the first people of the court were com- 
monly of the party ; but the man, who of all others suited 
him best on these occasions, never failed to attend : that was 
the celebrated Saint Evremond, who with great exactness, but 
too great freedom, had written the history of the treaty of the 



112 MEMOiR.S OF 

Pyrenees: an exile like himself, though for very difiereiitl 
reasons. 

Happily for them both, fortune had, some time before the 
arrival of the Chevalier de Grammont, brought Saint Evre- 
mond ^'^ to England, after he had had leisure to repent in Hol- 
land of the beauties of that famous satire. 

The Chevalier was from that time his hero : they had each 
of them attained to all the advantages which a knowledge of 
the world, and the society of people of fashion, could add to 
the improvement of good natural talents. Saint Evremond, 
less engaged in frivolous pursuits, frequently gave little lec- 
tures to the Chevalier, and by making observations upon the 
past, endeavoured to set him right for the present, or to in- 
struct him for the future. " You are now,'* said he, '' in the 
most agreeable way of life a man of your temper could wish 
for : you are the delight of a youthful, sprightly, and gallant 
court : the king has never a party of pleasure to which you 
are not admitted. You play from morning to night, or, to 
speak more properly, from night to morning, without knowing 
what it is to lose. Far from losing the money you brought 
hither, as you have done in other places, you have doubled it, 
trebled it, multiplied it almost beyond your wishes, notwith- 
standing the exorbitant expenses you are imperceptibly led 
into. This, without doubt, is the most desirable situation in 
the world : stop here. Chevalier, and do not ruin your aflfairs, 
by returning to your old sins. Avoid love, by pursuing other 
pleasures : love has never been favourable to you.^^ You are 
sensible how much gallantry has eost you ; and every person 
here is not so well acquainted with that matter as yourself. 
Play boldly : entertain the court with your wit : divert the 
king by your ingenious and entertaining stories ; but avoid 
all engagements which can deprive you of this merit, and 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 113 

mal<e you forget you are a stranger and an exile in tliis de 
ligbtful country. 

'' Fortune may grow weary of befriending you at play. 
What would tave become of you, if your last misfortune had 
happened to you, when your money had been at as low an 
ebb as I have known it ? Attend carefully then to this ne- 
cessary deity, and renounce the other. You will be missed 
at ihe court of France, before you grovv- w^eary of this ; but 
bo tliat as it may, lay up a good store of money : when a man 
is rich, he consoles himself for his banishment. I know you 
well, my dear Chevalier : if you take it into your head to 
seduce a lady, or to supplant a lover, your gains at play will 
by no means suffice for presents and for bribes : no, let play 
be as productive to you as it can be, you will never gain so 
much by it, as you will lose by love, if you yield to it. 

'' You are in possession of a thousand splendid qualifica- 
tions which distinguish you here : generous, benevolent, ele- 
gant, and polite ; and for your engaging wit, inimitable. 
Upon a strict examination, perhaps, all this would not be 
found literally true ; but these are brilliant marks ; and since 
it is granted that you possess them, do not shew yourself here 
in any other light : for, in love, if your manner of paying 
your addresses can be so denominated, you do not in the least 
resemble the picture I have just now drawn." 

'' My little philosophical monitor," said the Chevalier de 
Grammont, " you talk here as if you were the Cato of Xor 
maiidy.*' ''Do I say any thing untrue?" replied Saint 
Ivvremond : " is it not a fact, that as soon as a woman pleases 
you, your first care is to find out whether she has njij other 
lover, and your second how to plague her ; for the gaining 
her affection is the last thing in your thoughts. You seldom 
engage in intrigues, but to disturb the happiness of others : a 
mistress who has no lovers, would have no charms for you, 

I 



Ml'MOIRS OF 



and if «lic lias, slie would be invaluable. Do not all the 
places tlirougli whicli you have passed furnisb me with a 
thousand examples? Shall I mention your coup d'essai at 
Turin? the trick you played at Fontainbleau, where you 
robbed the Princess Palatine's courier upon the highway? And 
for what purpose was this fine exploit, but to put you in pos- 
session of some proofs of her afi'ection for another, in order to 
tnve her uneasiness and confusion by reproaches and menaces, 
which you had no right to use ? 

" Who but yourself ever took it into his head to place him- 
self in ambush upon the stairs, to disturb a man in an intrigue, 
and to pull him back by the leg when he was half way up to 
his mistress's chamber ? Yet did not you use your friend the 
Duke of Buckingham in this manner, when he was stealing at 

night to although you were not in the least his rival ? 

How many spies did not you send out after d'Olonne ?6-* How 
many tricks, frauds, and persecutions did you not practise 
for the Countess de Fiesque,^ who perhaps might have been 
constant to you, if you had not yourself forced her to be 
otherwise ? But, to conclude, for the enumeration of your 
iniquities would be endless, give me leave to ask you, how 
you came here ? Are not we obliged to that same evil genius 
of yours, which rashly inspired you to intermeddle even in 
the gallantries of your prince ? Shew some discretion then 
on this point here, I beseech you ; all the beauties of the court 
are already engaged ; and however docile the English may 
be with respect to their wives, they can by no means bear the 
inconstancy of their mistresses, nor patiently suffer the ad van • 
tages of a rival : suffer them, therefore, to remain in tran- 
quillity, and do not gain their ill-will for no purpose. 

" You certainly will meet with no success with such as are 
unmarried : honourable views, and good landed property, are 
required here ; and you possess as much of the one as the 



COUNT GEAMMONT. 115 

other. Every country has its customs : in Holland, unmar* 
ried ladies are of easy access, and of tender dispositions ; but 
as soon as ever they are married, they become like so many 
Lucretias : in France, the women are great coquettes before 
marriage, and still more so afterwards ; but here it is a miracle 
if a young lady yields to any proposal but that of matrimony ; 
and I do not believe you yet so destitute of grace as to think 
of that.'' 

Such were Saint Evremond's lectures ; but they were all 
to no purpose : the Chevalier de Grammont only attended to 
them for his amusement ; and though he was sensible of the 
truth they contained, he paid little regard to them : in fact, 
being weary of the favours of fortune, he had just resolved to 
pursue those of love. 

Mrs. Middleton was the first whom he attacked : she was 
one of the handsomest women in town, though then little 
known at court : so much of the coquette as to discourage no 
one ; and so great was her desire of appearing magnificently, 
that she was ambitious to vie with those of the greatest for- 
tunes, though unable to support the expense. All this 
suited the Chevalier de Grammont; therefore^ without tri- 
lling away his time in useless ceremonies, he applied to her 
porter for admittance, and chose one of her lovers for his con- 
fidant. 

This lover, who was not deficient in wit, was at that time 
a Mr. Jones, afterwards Earl of Hanelagh :^^ what engaged 
iiim to serve the Chevalier de Grammont, Avas to traverse 
the designs of a most dangerous rival, and to relieve himself 
from an expense which began to lie too heavy upon him. In 
both respects the Chevalier answered his purpose. 

Immediately spies were placed, letters and presents flew 
about : he was received as well as he could wish : he was per- 
mitted to ogle : he was even ogled again ; but this was all : 

I 2 



116 MEMOIRS OP 

he found that tho fair one was very willing to accept, but 
was tardy in making: returns. This induced him, without 
giving up liis pretensions to lier, to seek his fortune else- 
where. 

Among the queen's maids of honour, there was one called 
Warmestro f'''^ she was a beauty ver}^ different from the other. 
]\[rs. i\Iiddleton'^^ was well made, fair, and delicate ; but had 
in her behaviour and discourse something precise and affected. 
Tlie indolent languishing airs she gave herself did not please 
every body : people grew weary of those sentiments of deli- 
cacy, v/hich she endeavoured to explain without understand- 
ing them herself; and instead of entertaining she became 
tiresome. In these attempts she gave herself so much trou- 
ble, that she made the company uneasy, and her ambition to 
pass for a wit, only established her the reputation of being 
tiresome, which lasted much longer than her beauty. 

Miss Warmestre was brown : she had no shape at all, and 
still less air; but she had a very lively complexion, very 
sparkling eyes, tempting looks, which spared nothing that 
might engage a lover, and promised every thing which could 
preserve him. In the end, it very plainly appeared that 
her consent went along with her eyes to the last degree of 
indiscretion. 

It was between these two goddesses that the inclinations of 
the Chevalier de Grammont stood wavering, and between 
whom his presents were divided. Perfumed gloves, pocket 
looking-glasses, elegant boxes, apricot paste, essences, and 
<»tlier small wares of love, arrived every week from Paris, 
with some new suit for himself; but, with regard to more 
solid presents, such as ear-rings, diamonds, brilliants, and 
Ijright guineas, all this was to be met with of the best sort in 
London, and the ladies were as well pleased with them as if 
they had been brouglit from abroad. 



COL. NT GKAMJMONT. 117 

Miss Stewart's ^^ beauty began at tbis time to be celebrated. 
The Countess of Castlemaine perceived that the king paid 
attention to her; but, instead of being alarmed at it, she 
favoured, as far as she was able, this new inclination, whether 
from an indiscretion common to all those who think themselves 
superior to the rest of mankind, or whether she designed, by 
this pastime, to divert the king's attention from the commerce 
which she held with Jermyn. She was not satisfied with 
appearing without any degree of uneasiness at a preference 
which all the court began to remark : she even affected to 
make Miss Stewart her favourite, and invited her to all the 
entertainments she made for the king ; and, in confidence of 
her own charms, with the greatest indiscretion, she often kept 
her to sleep. The king, who seldom neglected to visit the 
countess before she rose, seldom failed likewise to find Miss 
Stewart in bed with her. The most indifferent objects have 
charms in a new attachment : however, the imprudent coun- 
tess was not jealous of this rival's appearing with her, in such 
a situation, being confident, that whenever she thought fit, she 
Could triumph over all the advantages which these opportu- 
nities could afford Miss Stewart ; but she was quite mistaken. 
The Chevalier de Grammont took notice of this conduct, 
without being able to comprehend it ; but, as he was attentive 
to the inclinations of the king, he began to make his court to 
him by enhancing the merit of this new mistress. Her figure 
was more showy than engaging : it was hardly possible for a 
woman to have less wit, or more beauty : all her features 
were fine and regular ; but her shape was not good : yet she 
w^as slender, straight enough, and taller than the generality 
of women : she was very graceful, danced well, and spoke 
French better than her mother tongue : she was well bred, 
and possessed, in perfection, that air of dress which is so 



118 nrEMOll:^. OP 

much admired, and which cannot bo attained, unless it bo 
taken wlien young, in France. While her charms were 
gaining ground in the king's heart, the Countess of Castle- 
maine ajnused herself in the gratification of all her caprices 

Mrs. Hyde '^^ was one of the first of the beauties who were 
prejudiced with a blind prepossession in favour of Jermyn : 
she had just married a man whom she loved : by this marriage 
she became sister-in-law to the duchess, brilliant by her own 
native lustre, and full of pleasantry and wit. However, she 
was of opinion, that so long as she was not talked of on ac- 
count of Jermyn, all her other advantages would avail nothing 
for her glory : it was, therefore, to receive this finishing 
stroke, that she resolved to throw herself into his arms. 

She was of a middle size, had a skin of a dazzling white- 
ness, fine hands, and a foot surprisingly beautiful, even in 
England : long custom had given such a languishing tender- 
ness to her looks, that she never opened her eyes but like a 
Chinese ; and, w^hen she ogled, one would have thought she 
was doing something else. 

Jermyn accepted of her at first ; but, being soon puzzled 
what to do with her, he thought it best to sacrifice her to 
Lady Castlemaine. The sacrifice was far from being dis- 
pleasing to her : it was much to her glory to have carried off 
Jermyn from so many competitors ; but this was of no con- 
sequence in the end. 

Jacob Hall, the famous rope-dancer,''^ was at that time in 
vogue in London : his strength and agility charmed the pub- 
lic, even to a wish to know what he was in private ; for he 
appeared, in his tumbling dress, to be quite of a different 
make, and to have limbs very different from the fortunate 
Jermyn. The tumbler did not deceive Lady Castlemaine's 
expectations, if report may be believed ; and as was intimated 



CJUJST GRAMMONT. 119 

in many a song, niucli more to tlie honour of tbe rope-dancer 
than of the countess ; but she despised all these rumours, and 
only appeared still more handsome. 

While satire thus found employment at her cost, there were 
continual contests for the favours of another beauty, who was 
not much more niggardly in that way than herself: this was 
the Countess of Shrewsbury. 

The Earl of Arran, who had been one of her first admirers, 
was not one of the last to desert her : this beauty, less famous 
for her conquests, than for the misfortunes she occasioned, 
placed her greatest merits in being more capricious than any 
other. As no person could boast of being tbe only one in 
her favour ; so no person could complain of having been ill 
received. 

Jermyn was displeased that she had made no advances to 
him, without considering that she had no leisure for it : his 
pride was offended ; but the attempt which he made to take 
her from the rest of her lovers was very ill advised. 

Thomas Howard, brother to the Earl of Carlisle,^^ was one 
of them : there was not a braver, nor a more genteel man, in 
England ; and though he was of a modest demeanour, and his 
manners appeared gentle and pacific, no person was more 
spirited, nor more passionate. Lady Shrewsbury, inconside- 
rately returning the first ogles of the invincible Jermyn, did 
not at all make herself more agreeable to Howard : that, 
however, she paid little attention to ; yet, as she designed to 
keep fair with him, she consented to accept an entertainment 
which he had often proposed, and which she durst no longer 
refuse. A place of amusement, called Spring Garden,''^ was 
fixed upon for the scene of this entertainment. 

As soon as the party was settled, Jermyn was privately 
informed of it. Howard had a company in the resfiment of 



120 MEMO IKS OF 

guards, iiiul one of the soldiers of Lis company jjlayed pretty 
well on the bagpipes : this soldier was therefore at the en- 
tertainment. Jermyn was at the garden, as by chance ; and, 
puffed up with his former successes, he trusted to his victori- 
ous air for accomplishing this last enterprise : he no sooner 
appeared on the walks, than her ladyship shewed herself upon 
the balcony. 

1 know not how" she stood affected to her hero ; but Howard 
did not fancy him much : this did not prevent his coming up 
stairs, upon the first sign she made to him ; and not content 
with acting the petty tyrant, at an entertainment not made 
for himself, no sooner had he gained the soft looks of the fair 
one. than he exhausted all his common place, and all his stock 
of low irony, in railing at the entertainment, and ridiculing 
the music. 

Howard possessed but little raillery, and still less patience : 
three times was the banquet on the point of being stained with 
blood ; but three times did he suppress his natural impetuosity, 
in order to satisfy his resentment elsewhere with greater 
freedom. 

Jermyn, without paying the least attention to his ill-humour, 
pursued his point, continued talking to Lady Shrewsbury, and 
did not leave her until the repast was ended. 

He went to bed, proud of this triumph, and was waked 
next morning by a challenge : he took, for his second, Giles 
JRawlings, a man of intrigue, and a deep player. Howard 
took Dillon, who was dexterous and brave, much of a gentle- 
man, and, unfortunately, an intimate friend to Rawlings. 

In this duel fortune did not side with the votaries of love : 
poor Rawlings was left stone dead ; and Jermyn, having 
received three wounds, was carried to his uncle's, with very 
little si^ns of life. 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 121 

While the report of this event engaged the courtiers accord- 
ing to their several interests, the Chevalier de Grammont was 
informed by Jones, his friend, his confidant, and his rival, 
that there w^as another gentleman very attentive to Mrs. jMid- 
die ton. This vras Montagu,^^ no very dangerous rival on 
account of his person, but very much to be feared for his 
assiduity, the acuteness of his wit, and for some other talents, 
which are of importance, when a man is once permitted to 
display them. 

There needed not half so much to bring into action all 
the Chevalier's vivacity, in point of competition : vexation 
awakened in him whatever expedients the desire of revenge, 
malice, and experience could suggest, for troubling the designs 
of a rival, and tormenting a mistress. His first intention was 
to return her letters, and demand his presents, before he began 
to teaze her ; but, rejecting this project, as too weak a revenge 
for the injustice done him, he was upon the point of conspiring 
the destruction of poor Mrs. Middleton, when, by accident, he 
met with Miss Hamilton. From this moment ended all his 
resentment against Mrs. Middleton, and all his attachment to 
Miss Warmestre : no longer was he inconstant : no longer 
were his wishes fluctuating : this object fixed them all ; and, 
of all his former habits, none remained, except uneasiness and 
jealousy. 

Here his first care was to please ; but he very plainly saw, 
that to succeed, he must act quite in a difierent manner to 
that which he had been accustomed to. 

The family of the Hamiltons, being very numerous, li\^ed 
in a large and commodious house near the court : the Duke 
of Ormondes family was continually with them ; and here 
persons of the greatest distinction in London constantly met : 
the Chevalier de Grammont was here received in a manner 



]22 mejIoirs op 

agreeable to his merit and quality, and was astonished that he 
had spent so much time in other places; for, after having 
made this acquaintance, he was desirous of no other. 

All the world agreed, that Miss Hamilton "^ was worthy of 
the most ardent and sincere affection : nobody could boast a 
nobler birth, nothing was more charming than her person. 



COUNT GRAMMONT, 123 



CHAPTER YIL 

The Chevalier de Grammont, never satisfied in his amours, 
was fortunate v/ithout being beloved, and became jealous with- 
out having an attachment. 

Mrs. Middleton, as we have said, was going to experience 
what methods he could invent to torment, after having expe- 
rienced his powers of pleasing. 

He went in search of her to the queen's drawing-room, 
where there was a ball : there she was ; but fortunately for 
her, Miss Hamilton was there likewise. It had so happened, 
that of all the beautiful women at court, this was the lady 
whom he had least seen, and whom he had heard most com- 
mended : this, therefore, was the first time that he had a close 
view of her, and he soon found that he had seen nothing at 
court before this instant : he asked her some questions, to 
which she replied : as long as she was dancing, his eyes were 
fixed upon her; and from this time he no longer resented 
Mrs. Middleton's conduct. Miss Hamilton was at the happy 
age when the charms of the fair sex begin to bloom : she had 
the finest shape, the loveliest neck, and most beautiful arms 
in the world : she was majestic and graceful in all her move- 
ments ; and she was the original after which all the ladies 
copied in their taste and air of dress. Her forehead was 
open, white, and smooth : her hair was well set, and fell with 
ease into that natural order which it is so difficult to imitate. 
Her complexion was possessed of a certain freshness, not to 
be equalled by borrowed colours : her eyes were not large, 
but they were lively, and capable of expressing whatever she 



124 MEMOIRS OF 

pleased : her mouth was full of graces, and her contour un- 
commonly perfect: nor was her nose, which was small, deli • 
c:ite, and turned up, the least ornament of so lovely a face. 
In fine, her air, her carriage, and the numberless graces dis- 
])orsed over licr whole person, made the Chevalier de Gram- 
mont not doubt, but that she was possessed of every other 
(piaiifi cation. Her mind was a proper companion for such a 
form : she did not endeavour to shine in conversation by those 
sprightly sallies which only puzzle ; and w^ith still greater 
ca.re she avoided that affected solemnity in her discourse, 
which produces stupidity ; but, without any eagerness to talk, 
she just said w4iat she ought, and no more. She had an admi- 
rable discernment in distinguishing between solid and false 
wit ; and far from making an ostentatious display of her abi- 
lities, she was reserved, though very just in her decisions : 
her sentiments were always noble, and even lofty to the 
highest extent, when there was occasion : nevertheless, she 
was less prepossessed with her own merit than is usually the 
case with those who have so much. Formed, as we have 
described, she could not fail of commanding love ; but so far 
was she from courting it, that she was scrupulously nice with 
respect to those Avhose merit might entitle them to form any 
pretensions to her. 

The more the Chevalier de Grammont was convinced of 
these truths, the more did he endeavour to please and enerao'e 
her in his turn : his entertaining wit, his conversation, lively, 
easy, and always distinguished by novelty, constantly gained 
him attention ; but he was much embarrassed to find that pre- 
.^cnts, which so easily made their way in his former method 
of courtship, were }io longer j^roper in the mode which, for 
the future, he was obliged to pursue. 

He had an old valet-de-chambre, called Termes, a bold 
thief, and a still more impudent liar: he used to send this 



COUNT gra31Mo:.;t. 125 

man from London every week, on the commissions we have 
before mentioned; but after the disgrace of Mrs. Middletoii, 
and the adventure of Mivss Warmestre, Mr. Termes was only 
employed in bringing his master's clothes from Paris, and he 
did not always acquit himself with the greatest fidelity in that 
employment, as will appear hereafter. 

The queen was a woman of sense, and used all her endea- 
vours to please the king, by that kind obliging behaviour 
which her affection made natural to her : she was particularly 
attentive in promoting every sort of pleasure and amusement, 
especially such as she could be present at herself. 

She had contrived, for this purpose, a splendid masquerade, 
where those, whom she appointed to dance, had to repre- 
sent difierent nations : she allowed some time for prepara- 
tion, during which we may suppose, the tailors, the mantua- 
inakers, and embroiderers were not idle : nor were the beau- 
ties, who were to be there, less anxiously employed ; hov^^ever, 
Miss Hamilton found time enough to invent two or three 
little tricks, in a conjuncture so favourable, for turning into 
ridicule the vain fools of the court. There were two who were 
very eminently such : the one was Lady Muskerry,'^^ who had 
married her cousin-german ; and the other a maid of honour 
to the duchess, called Blague.'''' 

The first, whose husband most assuredly never married her 
for beauty, was made like the generality of rich heiresses, to 
whom just nature seems sparing of her gifts, in proportion as 
they are loaded with those of fortune : she had the shape of a 
woman big with child, without being so ; but had a very 
good reason for limping ; for, of two legs uncommonly short, 
one was much shorter than the other : a face suitable to this 
description gave the finishing stroke to this disagreeable 
figure. 

Miss Blague was another species of ridicule : her shape was 



126 MEiMOIRS OF 

neither good nor bad : lier countenance bore the appearance 
of the greatest insipidity, and her complexion was the same 
all over; with two little hollow eyes, adorned with white eye- 
lashes, as long a6 one's finger. With these attractions she 
placed herself in ambuscade to surprise unwary hearts ; but 
she might have done so in vain, had it not been for the arrival 
of the Marquis de Brisacier. Heaven seemed to have made 
them for each other : he had in his person and manners every 
requisite to dazzle a creature of her character: he talked 
eternally, without saying any thing, and in his dress ex- 
ceeded the most extravagant fashions. Miss Blague believed 
that all this finery was on her account ; and the marquis be- 
lieved that her long eyelashes had never taken aim at any 
but himself: every body perceived their inclination for each 
other : but they had only conversed by mute interpreters, 
when Miss Hamilton took it into her head to intermeddle in 
their affairs. 

She was willing to do every thing in order, and therefore 
began with her cousin Muskerry, on account of her rank. 
Her two darling foibles were dress a.nd dancing. Magnifi- 
cence of dress was intolerable with her figure ; and though 
her dancing was still more insupportable, she never missed a 
ball at court : and the queen had so much complaisance for 
the public, as always to make her dance ; but it was impos- 
sible to give her a part in an entertainment so important and 
splendid as this masquerade : however, she was dying with 
impatience for the orders she expected. 

It was in consequence of this impatience, of which Miss 
Hamilton was informed, that she founded the design of divert- 
ing herself at the expense of this silly woman. The queen 
sent notes to tliose whom she appointed to be present, and 
described the manner in which they were to be dressed. Miss 
Hamilton wrote a note exactly in tlie same manner to Lady 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 127 

Muskerry, with directions for lier to be dressed in the Baby- 
Ionian fashion. 

She assembled her counsel to advise about the means of 
sending it : this cabinet vfas composed of one of her brothers 

nd a sister, who were glad to divert themselves at the ex- 
pense of those who deserved it. After having consulted some 
:ime, they at last resolved upon a mode of conveying it into 

ler own hands. Lord Muskerry was just going out, when 
she received it: he was a man of honour, rather serious, very 
severe, and a mortal enemy to ridicule. His wife's deformity 
was not so intolerable to him, as the ridiculous figure she 
made upon all occasions. He thought that he was safe in the 
present case, not believing that the queen would spoil her 
masquerade by naming Lady Muskerry as one of the dancers; 
nevertheless, as he was acquainted with the passion his wife 
had to expose herself in public, by her dress and dancing, he 
had just been advising her very seriously to content herself 
with being a spectator of this entertainment, even though the 
<[ueen should h?ove the cruelty to engage her in it : he then 
took the liberty to shew her what little similarity there was 
between her figure, and that of persons to whom dancing and 
magnificence in dress were allowable. His sermon concluded 
at last, by an express prohibition to solicit a place at this en- 
tertainment, which they had no thoughts of giving her ; but 
far from taking his advice in good part, she imagined that he 
was the only person who had prevented the queen from doing 
her an honour she so ardently desired ; and as soon as he was 
gone out, her design was to go and throw herself at her Ma- 
jesty's feet to demand justice. She was in this very dispo- 
sition when she received the billet ; three times did she kiss 
it, and without regarding her husband's injunctions, she im- 
mediately got into her coach in order to get information of the 



^"^ MEMUIU.s OF 



Tuercliante w],o traded to the Levant, in what manner the 
ladies of quality dressed in Babylon. 

The plot laid for Miss Blague was of a different kind • she 
had such faith in her charms, and was so confident of their 
effects, that she could believe anything. Brisacier, whom 
she looked upon as desperately smitten, had wit, which he 
set off with common-place talk, and with little sonnets- he 
sung out of tune most methodically, and was continually 
exerting one or other of these happy talents: the Duke of 
Buckingham did all he could to spoil him, by the praises 
Jio bestowed both upon his voice and upon his wit. 

Miss Blague, who hardly understood a word of French 
regulated herself upon the duke's authority, in admiring the 
one and the other. It was remarked, that all the words 
which he sung to her were in praise of fair women, and that 
always taking this to herself, she cast down her eyes in 
acknowledgment and consciousness. It was upon these 
observations they resolved to make a jest of her, the first 
opportunity. 

While these little projects were forming, the king, who 
always wished to oblige the Chevalier de Grammont; asked 
him if he would make one at the masquerade, on condition of 
being Miss Hamilton's partner ? He did not pretend to dance 
sufficiently well for an occasion like the present ; yet he was 
far from refusing the offer: "Sire," said he, "of all the 
favours you have been pleased to shew me, since my arrival, 
I feel this more sensibly than any other; and to convince you 
of my gratitude, I promise you all the good offices in my 
power with Miss Stewart." He said this, because they had 
just given her an apartment separate from the rest of the 
niauis of honour, which made the courtiers begin to pay 
respect to her. The king was very well pleased at this 



COUNT GRAMMOJsT. 129 

pleasantry, and having thanked him for so necessary an offer ; 
"Monsieur le Chevalier," said he, "in v/hat style do you 
intend to dress yourself for the ball ? I leave you the choice 
of all countries/' " If so," said the Chevalier, " I will dress 
after the French manner, in order to disguise myself; for 
they already do me the honour to take me for an Englishman 
in your city of London. Had it not been for this, I should 
have wished to have appeared as a Homan ; but for fear of 
embroiling myself with Prince Rupert,''^ who so warmly 
espouses the interests of Alexander against Lord Thanet,''^ 
who declares himself for Ccesar, I dare no longer think of 
assuming the hero ; nevertheless, though I may dance awk- 
wardly, jet^ by observing the tune, and with a little alert- 
ness, I hope to come off pretty well ; besides, Miss Hamilton 
will take care that too much attention shall not be paid to 
me. As for my dress, I shall send Termes off to-morrow 
morning ; and if I do not shew you at his return the most 
splendid habit you have ever seen, look upon mine as the most 
disgraced nation in your masquerade." 

Termes set out with ample instructions, on the subject of 
ins journey ; and his master redoubling his impatience on an 
occasion like the present, before the courier could be landed, 
began to count the minutes in expectation of his return : thus 
was he employed, until the very eve of the ball ; and that 
vras the day that Miss Hamilton and her little society had 
fixed for the execution of their project. 

Martial gloves were then very much in fashion : she had 
by chance sev^eral pairs of them : she sent one to Miss 
Blague, accompanied with four yards of yellow riband, the 
palest she could find, to which she added this note : — 

" You were the other day more charming than all the fair 
women in the world : you looked yesterday still more fair 
tlian you did the day before : if you go on, what will become 

K 



130 3IEM0IRS OF 

of my heart ? But it is a long time since that has been a 
prey to your pretty little young wild hoars eyes.^ Shall 
you be at the masquerade to-morrow ? But can there be any 
charms at an entertainment at which you are not present ? 
It does not signify : I shall know you in whatever disguise 
you may be : but I shall be better informed of my fate by the 
present I send you ; you will wear knots of this riband in 
your hair ; and these gloves will kiss the most beautiful 
hands in the universe." 

This billet, with the present, were delivered to Miss 
Blague, with the same success as the other had been conveyed 
to Lady Muskerry. Miss Hamilton had just received an 
account of it, when the latter came to pay her a visit : some- 
thing seemed to possess her thoughts very much ; when, 
having staid some time, her cousin desired her to walk into 
her cabinet. As soon as they were there : " I desire your 
secrecy for what I am going to tell you," said Lady Mus- 
kerry. " Do not you wonder what strange creatures men 
are ? Do not trust to them, my dear cousin : my Lord 
Muskerry, who, before our marriage, could have passed whole 
days and nights in seeing me dance, thinks proper now to 
forbid me dancing, and says it does not become me. This is 
not all : he has so often rung in my ears the subject of this 
masquerade, that I am obliged to hide from him the honour 
the queen has done me, in inviting me to it. However, I 
am surprised I am not informed v/ho is to be my partner : 
but if you knew what a plague it is, to find out, in this| 
cursed town, in what manner the people of Babylon dress, | 
you would pity me for what I have suffered since the time I 
have been afjpointed : besides, the cost which it puts me to 
is beyond ;ili imagination." 

Here it was tliat Miss Hamilton's inclination to laugh, 
which had increased in [)ro|)ortion as she endeavoured to 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 131 

suppress it, at length overcame her, and broke out in an 
immoderate lit. Lady Muskerry took it in good humour, 
not doubting but that it was the fantastical conduct of her 
husband that she was laughing at. Miss Hamilton told her, 
that all husbands were much the same, and that one ought 
not to be concerned at their whims ; that she did not know 
who was to be her partner at the masquerade ; but that, as 
she was named, the gentleman named with her would cer- 
tainly not fail to attend her ; although she could not com- 
prehend why he had not yet declared himself, unless he like- 
wise had some fantastical spouse, who had forbid him to 
dance. 

This conyersation being finished. Lady Muskerry went 
away in great haste, to endeavour to learn some news of her 
partner. Those who were accomplices in the plot were 
laughing very heartily at this visit, when Lord Muskerry 
paid them one in his turn, and taking Miss Hamilton aside : 
Do you know," said he, " whether there is to be any ball 
in the city to-morrow ?" " No," said she ; " but why do 
you ask ?" " Because," said he, " I am informed that my wife 
is making great preparations of dress. I know very well she 
is not to be at the masquerade : that I have taken care of ; 
but as the devil is in her for dancing, I am very much afraid 
that she will be affording some fresh subject for ridicule, not- 
withstanding all my precautions : however, if it was amongst 
the citizens, at some private party, I should not much 
mind it." 

They sa,tisfied him as well as they could, and having dis- 
missed him, under pretence of a thousand things they had to 
prepare for the next day, Miss Hamilton thought herself at 
liberty for that morning, when in came Miss Price, one of 
the maids of honour to the du(jhess. ^ • This was just what 
she was wishing for : this lady and Miss Blague had been 

K 2 



132 MEMOIRS OP 



Missj 



xit variance some time, on account of Duncan, ^2 whom 
Price bad drawn away from the other ; and hatred still sub- 
sisted between these tv/o divinities. 

Though the maids of honour Avere nqt nominated for the 
masquerade, yet they were to assist at it : and consequently^ 
^vere to neglect nothmg to set themselves oiF to advantage. 
Miss Hamilton had still another pair of gloves of the same 
sort as those she had sent to Miss Blague, which she made 
a present of to her rival, with a few knots of the same 
riband, which appeared to have been made on purpose for her, 
brown as she was. Miss Price returned her a thousand 
thanks, and promised to do herself the honour of wearing 
them at the ball. "You will oblige me if you do," said 
Miss Hamilton, "but if you mention that such a trifle as 
this comes from me, I shall never forgive you ; but,'* con- 
tinued she, " do not go and rob poor Miss Blague of the 
Marquis Brisacier.^ as you already have of Duncan : I knov/ 
very well that it is wholly in your power : you have wit : 
you speak French ; and were he once to converse with you 
ever so little, the other could have no pretensions to him." 
This was enough: Miss Blague was only ridiculous and 
coquettish : Miss Price was ridiculous, coquettish, and some- 
thing else besides. 

The day being come, the court, more splendid than ever, 
exhibited all its magnificence at this masquerade. The com- 
pany were all met except the Chevalier de Grammont : every- 
body was astonished that he should be one of the last at such 
a time, as his readiness was so remarkable on every occasion ; 
])ut they were still more surprised, to see him at length appear 
in an ordinary court-dress, which he had worn before. The 
thing was preposterous on such an occasion, and very extra- 
(^rdinary with respect to him : in vain had he the finest point- 
lace, with the largest and best powdered peruke imaginable : 



COU^'T CIIAMMONT. 133 

liis dress, magnificent enougli for any other purpose, was not 
at ail proper for this entertainment. 

The king immediately took notice of it : '' Chevalier," said 
he, '' Termes is not arrived then?" "Pardon m6, Sire," 
said he, "God be thanked!" "Why God be thanked?" 
said the king; "has any thing happened to him on the 
road ?" "• Sire,'' said the Chevalier de Grammont, " this is 
the history of my dress, and of Termes, my messenger. * At 
these words the ball, ready to begin, was suspended : the 
dancers making a circle around the Chevalier de Grammont, 
he continued his story in the following manner : 

" It is now two days since this fellow ought to have been 
here, according to my orders and his protestations : you may 
judge of my impatience all this day, when I found he did not 
come ; at last, after I had heartily cursed him, about an hour 
go he arrived, splashed all over from head to foot, booted up 
to the waist, and looking as if he had been excommunicated : 
' Yery well, Mr. Scoundrel,' said I, Hhis is just like you ; you 
must be waited for to the very last minute, and it is a miracle 
that you are arrived at all.' 'Yes, faith,' said he, 'it is a miracle. 
You are always grumbling : I had the finest suit in the v^orld 
made for you, which the Duke de Guise himself was at tlic 
trouble of ordering.' ' Give it me, then, scoundrel,' said I. 
* Sir,' said he, 'if I did not employ a dozen embroiderers upon 
it, Vvdio did nothing but w^ork day and night, I am a rascal : 
I never left them one moment.' ' And where is it, traitor ? * 
said I : ' do not stand here prating, while I should be dress- 
ing.' ' I had,' continued he, 'packed it up, made it tiglit, and 
folded it in such a manner that all the rain in the v/orld could 
never have been able to reach it; and I rid post, day and 
night, knowing your impatience, and that you were not to be 
trifled with.'— — ' But where is it ? ' said I. ' Lost, Sir,' said 
he, clasping his hands. ' How i lost,' said I, in surprise. ' Yes, 



134 :\:::moiu.s of 

lost, perislied, swallowed up : what can I say more ? ' ' What, 
was the packet-boat cast away then ? ' said I. ' Oh ! indeed, 
Sir, a great deal worse, as you shall see,' answered he: 'I was 
within half a league of Calais yesterday morning, and I was 
resolved to go by the seaside, to make greater haste ; but, 
indeed they say very true, that nothing is like the highway; 
for I got into a quicksand, where I sunk up to the chin/ 'A 
quicksand,' said I, ' near Calais ? ' ' Yes, Sir,' said he, ' and 
such a quicksand, that, the devil take me, if they saw any 
thing but the top of my head when they pulled me out : as for 
my horse, fifteen men could scarce get him out ; but the port- 
manteau, where I had unfortunately put your clothes, could 
never be found : it must be at least a league under-ground.' 

" This, Sire," continued the Chevalier de Grammont, " is 
the adventure, and the relation which this honest gentleman 
has given me of it. I should certainly have killed him, but I 
was afraid of making Miss Hamilton wait, and I was desirous 
of giving your Majesty immediate advice of the quicksand, 
that your couriers may take care to avoid it." 

The king was ready to split his sides v/ith laughing, when 
the Chevalier de Grammont, resuming the discourse, "Apropos, 
Sire," said he, " I had forgot to tell you, that to increase my ill 
humour, I was stopped, as I was getting out of my chair, by 
the devil of a phantom in masquerade, who would by all means 
persuade me, that the queen had commanded me to dance with 
her; and, as I excused myself with the least rudeness possible, 
she charged me to find out who was to be her partner, and 
desired me to send him to her immediately : so that your Ma- 
jesty will do well to give orders about it ; for she has placed 
herself in ambush in a coach, to seize upon all those who pass 
through Wliitehall. However, I must tell you, that it is 
worth while to sec her dress ; for she must have at least sixty 
ells of gauze and silver tissue about her, not to mention a sort 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 135 



of a pyramid upon lier heacL adorned with a hundred thousand 

baubles." 

This last account surprised all the assembly, except those 
who bad a share in the plot. The queen assured them that 
all she had appointed for the ball were present ; and the king, 
having paused some minutes : " I bet," said he, " that it is the 
Duchess of Newcastle." 83 "And I," said Lord JIuskerry, 
coming up to Miss Hamilton, " will bet it is another fool; for 
I am very much mistaken if it is not my wife." 

The king was for sending to know who it was, and to bring 
her in : Lord Muskerry offered himself for that service, for 
the reason already mentioned ; and it was very well he did so. 
Miss Hamilton was not sorry for this, knowing very well that 
he was not mistaken in his conjecture : the jest would have 
gone much farther than she intended, if the princess of Baby- 
lon had appeared in all her glory. 

The ball was not very well executed, if one maybe allowed 
the expression, so long as they danced only slow dances; and 
yet there were as good dancers, and as beautiful women mthis 
assembly, as were to be found in the whole world: but as 
their number was not great, they left the French, and went to 
country dances. When they had danced some time, the king 
thought fit to introduce his auxiliaries, to give the others a little 
respite : the queen s and the duchess's maids of honour were 
therefore called in to dance with the gentlemen. 

Then it was that they were at leisure to take notice of Miss 
Blague, and they found that the billet they had conveyed to 
her on the part of Brisacier had its effect : she was more yet- 
low than saffron : her hair was stuffed with the citroa-coloured 
riband, which she had put there out of complaisance; and, 
to inform Brisacier of his fate, she raised often to her head 
her victorious hands, adorned with the gloves we have before 
mentioned : but, if they were surprised to see her in a head^. 



I 



1 



7oO UKyioi\::i of _ 

dress tliat mnde licr look more v/an than ever, slio was very 
differently surprised to see Miss Price partake with her in every 
particuloT of Brisacier's present : her surprise soon turned to 
jealousy ; for her rival had not failed to join in conversation 
with him, on account of what had been insinuated to her thoj 
evening before ; nor did Brisacier fail to return lier first ad 
vances, without paying the least attention to tlie fair Blague, 
nor to the signs whicb she was tormenting herself to make 
him, to inform him of his happy destiny. . 

Miss Price was short and thick, and consequently no 
dancer : the Duke of Buckingham, who brought Brisacier 
forward as often as he could, came to desire him, on the part 
of the king, to dance with Miss Blague, without knowing 
Vy^hat was then passing in this nymph's heart : Brisacier ex- 
cused himself, on account of the contempt that he had for 
country dances : Miss Blague thought that it was herself that 
he despised ; and, seeing that he was engaged in conversation 
with her mortal enemy, she began to dance, without knowing 
what she was doing. Though her indignation and jealousy 
were sufficiently remarkable to divert the court, none but 
Miss Hamilton and her accomplices understood the joke per- 
fectly: their pleasure was quite complete; for Lord Mus- 
kerry returned, still more confounded at the vision, of which 
the Chevalier de Grammont had given the description : he 
acquainted Miss Hamilton, that it was Lady Muskerry her- 
self, a thousand times more ridiculous than she had ever been 
before, and that he had had an immense trouble to get her 
home, and place a sentry at her chamber door. 

The reader may think, perhaps, that we have dwelt too 
long on these trifling incidents ; perhaps he may be right : we 
will, therefore, pass to others. 

Every thing favoured the Chevalier de Grammont in the 
new passion which he entertained : he was not, however, 



COUNT GnA:,i:,io:^T. idi 

witliout rivals ; but, wliat is a great deal more extraordinary, 
he was without uneasiness : he was acquainted with their un- 
derstandings, and no stranger to Miss Hamilton's way of 
thinking. 

Among her lovers, the most considerable, thougli the least 
professedly so, was the Duke of York : it was in vain for 
liim to conceal it, the court was too well acquainted with his 
character to doubt of his inclinations for her : he did not think 
it proper to declare such sentiments as were not fit for Miss 
Hamilton to hear ; but he talked to her as much as he could, 
and ogled her with great assiduity. As hunting was his 
favourite diversion, that sport employed him one part of the 

ly, and he came home generally much fatigued ; but Miss 
Hamilton's presence revived him, when he found her either 
with the queen or the duchess : there it was that, not daring 
to tell her of what lay heavy on his heart, he entertained her 
with what he had in bis head ; telling her miracles of the 
cunning of foxes and the mettle of horses ; giving her accounts 
of broken legs and arms, dislocated shoulders, and other curi- 
ous and entertaining adventures ; after wbich, his eyes told 
her the rest, till such time as sleep interrupted their conver- 
sation ; for these tender interpreters could not help sometimes 
composing themselves in the midst of their ogling. 

The duchess was not at all alarmed at a passion whicli her 
rival was far from thinking sincere, and with whicb she used 
to divert herself, as far as respect would admit her : on the 
contrary, as her highness had an affection and esteem for Miss 
Hamilton, she never treated her more graciously than on the 
present occasion. 

The two Hussells, uncle ^ and nephew,^ were two other of 
the Chevalier de Grammont's rivals : the uncle was full seven- 
ty, and had distinguished himself by his courage and fidelity 
in the civil wars : his passions and intentions, with regard to 



138 MEMOIRS OF 

Miss Hamilton, appeared both at onco; but his magnificence 
only appeared by halves in those gallantries which love in- 
spires. It was not long since the fashion of high-crowned 
hats had been left ofi", in order to fall into the other extreme : 
old Russell, amazed at so terrible a change, resolved to keep a 
medium, which made him remarkable : he was still more so, 
by his constancy for cut doublets, which he supported a long 
time after they had been universally suppressed ; but, what 
was more surprising than all, was a certain mixture of avarice 
and liberality, constantly at war with each other, ever since 
he had entered the lists with love. 

His nephew was only of a younger brother s family, but 
was considered as his uncle's heir ; and though he was under 
the necessity of attending to his uncle for an establishment, 
and still more so of humouring him, in order to get his estate, 
he could not avoid his fate. Mrs. Middleton shewed him a 
sufficient degree of preference ; but her favours could not 
secure him from the charms of Miss Hamilton : his person 
would have had nothing disagreeable in it, If he had but left 
it to nature ; but he was formal in all his actions, and silent 
even to stupidity ; and yet rather more tiresome when he did 
speak. 

The Chevalier de Grammont, very much at his ease in all 
these competitions, engaged himself more and more in his 
passion, without forming other designs, or conceiving other 
hopes, than to render himself agreeable : though his passion 
was openly declared, no person at court regarded it otherwise 
than as a habit of gallantry, which goes no farther than to do 
justice to merit. 

His monitor. Saint Evremond, was quite of a difierent 
opinioii; and finding, that, besides an immense increase of 
magnificcDce and assiduity, he regretted those hours which he 
bestowed on play ; that he no longer sought after those long 



COUiST GRAMMONT. 139 

and agreeable conversations they used to have together; and 
that this new attachment everywhere robbed him of himseLf. 
" Monsieur le Chevalier," said he, " methinks that for some 
time you have left the town beauties and their lovers in per- 
fect repose : Mrs. Middleton makes fresh conquests with im- 
punity, and wears your presents, under your nose, without 
your taking the smallest notice : poor Miss "Warmestre has 
been very quietly brought to bed in the midst of the court, 
without your having even said a word about it : I foresaw it 
plain enough, Monsieur le Chevalier, you have got acquainted 
with Miss Hamilton, and, what has never before happened to 
you, you are really in love ; but let us consider a little what 
may be the consequence. In the first place, then, I believe, 
you have not the least intention of seducing her : such is her 
birth and merit, that if you were in possession of the estate 
and title of your family, it might be excusable in you to offer 
yourself upon honourable terms, however ridiculous marriage 
may be in general ; for, if you only wish for wit, prudence, 
and the treasures of beauty, you could not pay your addresses 
to a more proper person : but for you, who possess only a very 
moderate share of those of fortune, you cannot pay your ad- 
dresses more improperly. 

" For your brother Toulongeon, whose disposition I am 
acquainted with, will not have the complaisance to die, to 
favour your pretensions : but suppose you had a competent 
fortune for you both, and that is supposing a good deal, are you 
acquainted with the delicacy, not to say capriciousness, of this 
fair one about such an engagement ? Do you know that she 
has had the choice of the best matches in England ? The Duke 
of Richmond paid his addresses to her first ; but though he 
was in love with her, still he was mercenary : however, the 
king, observing that want of fortune was the only impediment 
to the match, took that article upon himself, out of regard to 



140 



l^.iEMoins (;r 



the Duke of Oniioiu], to tlie merit and birth of Miss Haiiiil- 
tovi, and to her father's services; but, resenting that a man 
who pretended to be in love should bargain like a merchant, 
and likewise reflecting upon his character in the world, she 
(lid not think that being duchess of Richmond was a sufficient 
recompense for the danger that was to be feared from a brute 
and a debauchee. 

" Has not little Jermyn, notwithstanding his uncle's great 
estate and his own brilliant reputation, failed in his suit to 
lier ? And has she ever so much as vouchsafed to look at 
Henry Howard,^^ who is upon the point of being the first 
duke in England, and who is already in actual possession of 
all the estates of the house of Norfolk ? I confess that he is a 
clown ; but what other lady in all England would not have 
dispensed with his stupidity, and his disagreeable ]3ei'son, to 
be the first duchess in the kingdom, v/ith twenty-five thousand 
a year ? 

'- To conclude ; Lord Falmouth has told me himself, that 
lio has always looked upon her as the only acquisition want- 
ing to complete his happiness; but that, even at the height of 
tlic splendour of his fortune, he never had had the assurance 
to open his sentiments to her ; that he either felt in himself 
too much weakness, or too much pride, to be satisfied with 
(v])taining her solely by the persuasion of her relations ; and 
that, though the first refusals of the fair on such occasions are 
net much minded, he knew with what an air she had received 
the addresses of those whose persons she did not like. After 
this, Monsieur le Chevalier, consider what method you intend 
to pursue ; for, if you are in love, the passion v/ill still increase, i 
and the greater the attachment, the less capable will you be 
of making those serious reflections that are now in your 
power." 

" My poor pliilosopher/' pjiswered the Chevalier de Gram- I 



COUNT GUAMMOXT. 141 

11] cut, " jou understand Latin very 'vvell, yon can make good 
verses, you understand the course, and are acquainted v/ith 
the nature of the stars in the firmament ; but, as for the lumi- 
naries of the terrestrial globe, you are utterly unacquainted 
^^ith them ; you have told me nothing about Miss Hamilton, 
but what the king told me three days ago. That she has re- 
fused the savages you have mentioned is all in her favour ; if 
she had admitted their addresses, I would have had nothing 
to say to her, though I love her to distraction. Attend now to 
what I am going to say ; I am resolved to marry her, and I 
will have my tutor Saint Evremond hiu:iself to be the ^rst man 
to commend me for it. As for an establishment, I shall make 
my peace with the king, and will solicit him to make her one 
of the ladies of the bedchamber to the queen ; this he vrill 
grant me. Toulongeon^^ will die, without my assistance, and 
notwithstanding all his care; and Miss Hamilton vriJi have 
Semeat,^^ with the Chevalier de Grammont, as an indemnifi- 
cation for the Norfolks and Hichmonds. Now, have you 
any thing to advance against this project ? For I will bet yen 
a hundred louis, that every thing will happen as I have 
foretold it." 

At this time the king's attachment to Miss Stewari was so 
public, that every person perceived, that if she was but pos- 
sessed of art, she might become as pcbsolute a mistress over his 
conduct as she was over his heart. This was a line oppor- 
tunity for those who had experience and ambition. The Duke 
of Buckingham formed the design of governing her in order 
to ingratiate himself with the king ; God knows what a go- 
vernor he would have been, and what a head he was possessed 
of, to guide a-nother; however, he was the properest man in 
the world to insinuate himself with Miss Stewart ; she was 
childish in her behaviour, and laughed at every thing, and her 
taste for frivolous amusements, though unaffected, was only 



142 MEMOIRS OF 

allowable in a girl about twelve or thirteen years old. A 
child, however, she was, in every other respect, except play- 
ing with a doll ; blind-man's buff was her most favourite 
amusement ; she was building castles of cards, while the deep- 
est play was going on in her apartments, where you saw her 
surrounded by eager courtiers, who handed her the cards, or 
young architects, who endeavoured to imitate her. 

She had, however, a passion for music, and had some taste 
for singing. The Duke of Buckingham, who built the finest 
towers of cards imaginable, had an agreeable voice : she had 
no aversion to scandal ; and the duke was both the father and 
the mother of scandal; he made songs, and invented old 
women's stories with which she was delighted ; but his parti- 
cular talent consisted in turning into ridicule whatever was 
ridiculous in other people, and in taking them off, even in 
their presence, without their perceiving it. In short, he knew 
how to act all parts, with so much grace and pleasantry, that 
it was difficult to do without him, when he had a mind to 
make himself agreeable ; and he made himself so necessary to 
Miss Stewart's amusement, that she sent all over the town to 
seek for him, when he did not attend the king to her apart 
ments. 

He was extremely handsome,^ and still thought him sell 
much more so than he really was ; although he had a great 
deal of discernment, yet his vanity made him mistake some 
civilities as intended for his person, which were only bestowed 
on his wit and drollery. In short, being seduced by too good| 
an opinion of his own merit, he forgot his first project and his 
Portuguese mistress, in order to pursue a fancy in which he 
mistook himself; for he no sooner began to act a serious part 
with Miss Stewart, than he met with so severe a repulse, that 
he abandoned, at once, all his designs upon her; however, 
the familiarity she had procured him with the king opened 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 143 

the way to those favours to which he was afterwards ad- 
vanced. 

Lord Arlington^ took up the project which the Duke of 
Buckingham had abandoned, and endeavoured to gain posses- 
sion of the mind of the mistress, in order to govern the mas- 
ter. A man of greater merit and higher birth than himself 
might, however, have been satisfied with the fortune he had 
already acquired. His first negotiations were during the 
treaty of the Pyrenees ; and though he was unsuccessful in 
his proceedings for his employer, yet he did not altogether 
lose his time ; for he perfectly acquired, in his exterior, the 
serious air and profound gravity of the Spaniards, and imi- 
tated pretty well their tardiness in business ; he had a scar 
across his nose, which was covered by a long patch, or, rather, 
by a small plaster, in form of a lozenge. 

Scars in the face commonly give a man a certain fierce and 
martial air, which sets him ofi" to advantage ; but it was quite 
the contrary with him, and this remarkable plaster so well 
suited his mysterious looks, that it seemed an addition to his 
gravity and self-sufficiency. 

Arlington, under the mask of this compound countenance, 
where great earnestness passed for business, and impenetrable 
stupidity for secrecy, had given himself the character of a 
great politician ; and no one having leisure to examine him, 
he was taken at his word, and had been made minister and 
secretary of state, upon the credit of his own importance. 

His ambition soaring still above these high stations, after 
having provided himself with a great number of fine maxims, 
and some historical anecdotes, he obtained an audience of Miss 
Stewart, in order to display tiiem ; at the same time offering 
her his most humble services, and best advice, to assist her in 
conducting herself in the situation to which it had pleased 
God, and her virtue, to raise her. But he was only in the 



144 Mi::.: Of us oh 

preface of his speech, when she recollected that he was at the 
head of those whom the Duke of Buckingham used to 
mimic ; and as his presence and his language exactly revived 
the ridiculous ideas that had been given her of him, she 
could not forbear bursting out into a lit of laughter in his 
face, so much the more violent as she had for a long time 
struggled to suppress it. 

The minister was enraged : his pride became his post, and 
his punctilious behaviour merited all the ridicule which could 
be attached to it : he quitted her abruptly, with all the fine 
advice he had prepared for her, and was almost tempted to 
carry it to Lady Castlemaine, and to unite himself with her 
interests ; or immediately to quit the court party, and declaim 
freely in parliament against the grievances of the state, and 
particularly to propose an act to forbid the keeping of mis- 
tresses ; but his prudence conquered his resentments ; and 
thinking only how to enjoy with pleasure the blessings of 
fortune, he sent to Holland for a wife, in order to complete 
his felicity.^^ 

Hamilton^2 ^^^s, of all the courtiers, the best qualified to 
succeed in an enterprise in which the Duke of Buckingham 
and Lord Arlington had miscarried : he was thinking upon 
it : but his natural coquetry traversed his intentions, and made 
liim neglect the most advantageous prospects in the world, 
ill order unnecessarily to attend to the advances and allure- 
ments thrown out to him by the Countess of Chesterfield. 
This was one of the most agreeable women in the world : 
; lie had a most exquisite shape, though she was not very tall : 
lier complexion was extremely fair, with ali the expressive 
ciiarms of a brunette : she had large blue ejes^ very tempting 
juid alluring : her manners were engaging : her wit lively 
and amusing; but her heart, ever open to tender sentiments, 
was neither scrupulous in point of constancy, nor nice in 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 145 

point of sincerity. She was daughter to the Duke of Or* 
moncl,^^ and Hamilton, being her cousin-german, they 
migbt be as much as they pleased in each other's company 
v\^ithout being particular; but as soon as her eyes gave him 
.some encouragement, he entertained no other thoughts than 
how to please her, without considering her fickleness, or the 
obstacles he had to encounter. His intention, which we 
mentioned before, of establishing himself in the confidence 
of Miss Stewart, no longer occupied his thoughts : she now 
was of opinion that she was capable of being the mistress of 
her own conduct : she had done all that was necessary to 
inflame the king's passions, without exposing her virtue by 
granting the last favours ; but the eagerness of a passionate 
lover, blessed with favourable opportunities, is difficult to 
withstand, and still more diiScult to vanquish ; and Miss 
Stewart's virtue was almost exhausted, when the queen was 
attacked with a violent fever, which soon reduced her to 
extreme danger. 

Then it was that Miss Stev/art was greatly pleased with 
herself for the resistance she had made, though she had paid 
dearly for it : a thousand flattering hopes of greatness and 
glory filled her heart, and the additional respect that was 
universally paid her contributed not a little to increase them. 
The queen was given over by her physicians:^'* the few 
Portuguese women, that had not been sent back to their own 
country, filled the court with doleful cries ; and the good 
nature of the king was much affected with the situation in 
vv^hich he saw a princess, whom, though he did not love her, 
yet he greatly esteemed. She loved him tenderly, and 
thinking that it was the last time she should ever speak to 
liim, she told him, " That the concern he shewed for her 
death was enough to make her quit life with regret ; but 

L 



14G ' MEMOiKS OF 

that not possessing charms sufficient to merit his tenderness, 
she had at least the consolation in dying to give place to a 
consort, who might be more worthy of it, and to whom heaven, 
perhaps, might grant a blessing that had been refused to 
her/' At these words, she bathed his hands with some tears, 
which he thought would be her last : he mingled his own 
with hers ; and without supposing she would take him at 
his word, he conjured her to live for his sake. She had 
never yet disobeyed him; and, however dangerous sudden 
impulses may be, when one is between life and death, this 
transport of joy, which might have proved fatal to her, 
saved her life, and the king's wonderful tenderness had an 
effect, for v/hicli every person did not thank heaven in the 
same manner. 

Jermyn had now for some time been recovered of his 
wounds : however, Lady Castlemaine, finding his health in 
as deplorable a condition as ever, resolved to regain the king's 
heart, but in vain : for notwithstanding the softness of hfer 
tears, and the violence of her passions, Miss Stewart wholly 
possessed it. During this period the court was variously 
eniertamed : sometim.es there were promenades, and at others 
the court beauties sallied out on horseback, and to make 
attacks with their charms and graces, sometimes successfully, 
sometimes otherwise, but always to the best of their abilities : 
at 'other seasons there were such shows on the river, as the 
city of London alone can afford. 

The Thames washes the sides of a large though not a mag- 
nificent palace of the kings of Great Britain :^^ from the 
stairs of this palace the court used to take water, in the 
summei evenings, when the heat and dust prcA^ented their 
walking in the park: an infinite number of open boats, 
filled with the court and city beauties, attended the barges, 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 1 47 

in wliicli were the royal family : collations, music, and 
fireworks completed the scene. The Chevalier de Gram- 
niont always made one of the company, and it was very 
seldom that he did not add something of his own invention, 
agreeably to surprise by some unexpected stroke of magnifi- 
cence and gallantry. Sometimes he had complete concerts of 
vocal and instrumental music, which he privately brought 
from Paris, and which struck up on a sudden in the midst 
of these parties : sometimes he gave banquets, which like- 
wise came from France, and which, even in the midst of 
London, surpassed the king's collations. These entertain- 
ments sometimes exceeded, at others fell short of his expec- 
tations, but they always cost him an immense deal of money. 
Lord Falmouth was one of those who had the greatest 
friendship and esteem for the Chevalier do Grammont : this 
profusion gave him concern, and as he often used to go and 
sup with him without ceremony, one day finding only Saint 
Evremond there, and a supper fit for half a dozen guests, 
who had been invited in form : " You must not," said he, 
addressing himself to the Chevalier de Grammont, " be obliged 
to me for this visit : I come from the king's coiicher^ where 
all the discourse was about you ; and I can assure you that 
the manner in which the king spoke of you could not afford 
you so m.ucli pleasure as I myself felt upon the occasion. 
You know very well, that he has long since offered you his 
good offices with the king of France ; and for my own part," 
continued he, smiling, " you know very well that I would 
solicit him so to do, if it was not through fear of losing you 
as soon as your peace is made ; but, thanks to Miss Hamilton, 
jou are in no great haste : however, I am ordered by the 
king my master to acquaint you, that while you remain here, 
until you are restored to the favour of your sovereign, he 

L 2 



148 MEMOIRS OF 

presents you with a pension of fifteen liundred Jacobus's : it 
iS indeed a trifle, considering the figure the Chevalier do 
Griininiont makes among us; but it will assist him/' said Jie, 
embracing him, ^' to give us sometimes a supper." 

The Chevalier de Grammont received, as he ought, the 
offer of a favour he did not tliink proper to accept: "I 
acknowledge," said he, " the king's bounty in this proposal, 
but I am still more sensible of Lord Falmouth's generosity 
in it ; and I request him to assure his Majesty of my perfect 
gratitude : the king my master will not suffer me to want, 
when he thinks fit to recall me ; and while I continue here, 
I vrill let you see that I have wherewithal to give my Eng- 
lish friends now and then a supper/' 

At these words, he called for his strong box, and shewed 
him seven or eight thousand guineas in solid gold. Lord 
Falmouth, willing to improve to the Chevalier s advantage 
the refusal of so advantageous an offer, gave Monsieur de 
Comminge,^^ then ambassador at the English court, an 
account of it; nor did Monsieur de Comminge fail to re- 
present properly the merit of such a refusal to the French 
court. 

Hyde Park, every one knows, is the promenade of Lon- 
don;^'' nothing was so much in fashion, during the fine wea- 
ther, as that promenade, which w^as the rendezvous of mag- 
nificence and beauty : every one, therefore, who had either 
sparkling eyes, or a splendid equipage, constantly repaired 
thither, and the king seemed pleased with the place. 

Coaches w^ith glasses^s were then a late invention: the 
ladies were afraid of being shut up in them: they greatly 
preferred the pleasure of shev/ing almost their whole persons, 
to the conveniences of modern coaches : that which was made 
for the king not being remarkable for its elegance, the Che- 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 149 

valier de Grammont vfas of opinion that sometliing ingenious 
might be invented, which should partake of the ancient 
fashion, and likewise prove preferable to the modern ; he 
therefore senc away Termes privately with all the necessary 
instructions to Paris ; the Duke of Guise was likewise 
charged with this commission ; and the courier, having by 
the favour of Providence escaped the quicksand, in a 
month's time brought safely over to England the most ele- 
gant and magnificent calash that had ever been seen, which 
the Chevalier presented to the king. 

The Chevalier de Grammont had given orders, that fifteen 
hundred louis should be expended upon it ; but the Duke of 
Guise, who v/as his friend, to oblige him, laid out two thousand. 
All the court was in admiration at the magnificence of the pre- 
sent ; and the king, charmed with the Chevalier's attention to 
every thing which could afford him pleasure, failed not to ac- 
knowledge it : he would not, however, accept a present of so 
much value, but upon condition that the Chevalier should not 
refuse another from him. 

The queen, imagining that so splendid a carriage might 
prove fortunate for her, wished to appear in it first, with the 
Duchess of York. Lady Castlemaine, who had seen them 
in it, thinking that it set off a fine figure to greater advan- 
tage than any other, desired the king to lend her this wonder- 
ful calash to appear in it the first fine day in Hyde Park. 
Miss Stewart had the same wish, and requested to have it on 
the same day. As it was impossible to reconcile these two 
goddesses, whose former union was turned into mortal hatred, 
the king was very much perplexed. 

Lady Castlemaine was with child, and threatened to mis- 
carry, if her rival was preferred. Miss Stewart threatened 
that she never would be with child, if her request was not 



150 MEMOIRS OF 

granted : tlil.s menace prevailed, and Lady Castleniaine's 
rage was so great, that she had ahnost kept her word ; and 
it was believed that this triumph cost her rival some of her 
innocence. 

The queen dowager, who, though she had no share in theso 
broils, had no objection to them, and as usual being diverted 
with this circumstance, she took occasion to joke with the 
Chevalier de Grammont, for having thrown this bone of, 
contention among such competitors ; and did not fail to give 
him, in the presence of the whole court, those praises which 
so magnificent a present deserved : " But how comes it,*' said 
she, " that you have no equipage yourself, though you are 
at so great an expense ? for I am told that you do not keep 
even a single footman, and that one of the common runners 
in the streets lights you home with a stinking link/* 
" Madam," said he, " the Chevalier de Grammont hates 
pomp : my link-boy, of whom you speak, is faithful to my 
service ; and besides, he is one of the bravest fellows in the 
world. Your Majesty is unacquainted with the nation of 
link-boys : it is a charming one, I can assure you : a man 
cannot step out in the night without being surrounded by a 
dozen of them. The first time I became acquainted with 
them, I retained all that offered me their services ; so that 
when I arrived at Whitehall, I had at least two hundred 
about my chair. The sight was new ; for those who had 
seen me pass with this illumination, asked whose funeral it 
was. These gentlemen, however, began fighting about some 
dozen shillings I had thrown among them then ; and he 
whom yuur Majesty mentions having beaten three or four of 
his companions, I retained him for his valour. As for the 
parade of coaches and footmen, I despise it : I have some- 
times had five or six valets-de-chambre at once, without 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 151 

having a single servant in livery, except my chaplain Pous- 
satin." " How 1" said the queen, bursting out a laughing, 
"a chaplain in your livery! he surely was not a priest?" 
" Pardon me. Madam," said he, '' and the first priest in the 
world for dancing the Biscayan jig." "Chevalier," said 
the king, "pray tell us +he history of your chaplain Pous- 
satin/' 



152 MEMOIRS OF 



CHAPTER YIII. 

'•Sir/' said tlio Chevalier de Grammont, tlie Prince de 
<Conde besieged Lerida f^ the place in itself was nothing ; but 
Don Gregorio Brice, who defended it, was something. He 
was one of those Spaniards of the old stamp, as valiant as the 
Cid, as proud as all the Guzmans put together, and more gal- 
lant than all the Abencerrages of Grenada : he suffered us to 
make our first approaches to the place, without the least mo- 
lestation. The Marshal de Grammont,^^^ whose maxim it 
was, that a governor who at first makes a great blustering, 
and burns his suburbs in order to make a noble defence, gene- 
rally makes a very bad one, looked upon Gregorio de Brice's 
politeness as no good omen for us ; but the prince, covered with 
glory, and elated with the campaigns of Rocroy, Norlinguen, 
and Fribourg, to insult both the place and the governor, or- 
dered the trenches to be mounted at noon-day by his own 
regiment, at the head of which marched four-and-twenty 
fiddlers, as if it had been to a wedding. 

" Night approaching, we were all in high spirits : our vio- 
lins were playing soft airs, and we were comfortably regaling 
ourselves : God knows how we were joking about the poor 
governor and his fortifications, both of which we promised 
ourselves to take in less than tv/enty-four hours. This was 
going on in tlie trenches, when we heard an ominous cry from 
the ramparts, repeated two or three times, of ' Alerte on the 
walls r This cry was followed by a discharge of cannon and 
muskecry, and this discharge by a vigorous sally, which, after 



COUNT GUAM MONT. 153 

having filled up tlie trenches, pursued us as far as our grand 
guard. 

■' The next day, Gregorio Brice sent by a trumpet a present 
I of ice and fruit to the Prince de Conde, humbly beseeching his 
'liighness to excuse his not returning the serenade which he 
was pleased to favour him with, as unfortunately he had no 
violins ; but that, if the music of last night was not disagree- 
able to him, he would endeavour to continue it as long as he 
did him the honour to remain before the place. The Spaniard 
was as good as his word ; and as soon as we heard ' Alerte 
on the walls,' we were sure of a sally, that cleared our trenches, 
destroyed our works, and killed the best of our officers and 
soldiers. The prince was so piqued at it, that, contrary to 
the opinion of the general officers, he obstinately persisted in 
carrying on a siege, which was like to ruin his army, and 
which he was at last forced to quit in a hurry. 

• As our troops were retiring, Don Gregorio, far from 
giving himself those airs which governors generally do on such 
occasions, made no other sally than sending a respectful com- 
pliment to the prince. Signer Brice set out not long after for 
Madrid, to give an account of his conduct, and to receive the 
recompense he had merited. Your Majesty, perhaps, will be 
desirous to know what reception poor Brice met with, after 
having performed the most brilliant a^ction the Spaniards could 
boast of in all the war — he was confined by the Inquisition." 

" How ! " said the queen dowager, " confined by the Inqui- 
sition for his services ! " " Not altogether for his services,'" 
said the Chevalier ; " but, without any regard to his services, 
he was treated in the manner I have mentioned, for a little 
?-ffair of gallantry, which I shall relate to the king present^. 
" The campaign of Catalonia being thus ended, we wer( 
rcturnino; home, not overloaded with laurels : but, as the 



154 iviKMoijiy or 

Prince de Conde had laid up a great store on former occasions, 
and as he had still great projects in his head, he soon forgot 
this trifling misfortune : we did nothing but joke with one 
another during the march, and the prince was the first to ridi- 
cule the siege : we made some of those rhymes on Lerida, 
which were sung all over France, in order to prevent others 
more severe ; however, we gained nothing by it, for notwith- 
standing we treated ourselves freely in our own ballads, others 
were composed in Paris, in which we were ten times more 
severely handled. At last we arrived at Perpignan upon a 
holy-day: a company of Catalans, who were dancing in the mid- 
dle of the street, out of respect to the prince came to dance 
under his windows : Monsieur Poussatin, in a little black jacket, 
danced in the middle of this company as if he was really mad: 
I immediately recognized him for my countryman from his 
manner of skipping and frisking about : the prince was charmed 
with his humour and activity. After the dance, I sent for 
him, and inquired who he was. ^ A poor priest, at your service, 
my lord,* said he : ' my name is Poussatin, and Beam is my 
native country : I was going into Catalonia to serve in the 
infantry, for, God be praised, I can march very well on foot ; 
but, since the war is happily concluded, if your lordship 
pleases to take me into your service, I would follow you every- 
where, and serve you faithfully.' ' Monsieur Poussatin,* said 
I, ' my lordship has no great occasion for a chaplain ; but since 
you are so well disposed towards me, I will take you into my 
service.* 

" The Prince de Cond6, who was present at this conversa- 
tion, was overjoyed at my having a chaplain. As poor Pous- 
satin was in a very uattercd condition, I had no time to pro- 
vide him with a pro[)er haoit at Perpignan ; but giving him a 
spare livery of one of the Marshal de Grammont*s servants, I 



COUKT GRAMMONT. 155 

made him get up behind the prince's coach, who was like to 
die with laughing every time he looked at poor Poussatin's 
uncanonical mien in a yellow livery. 

" As soon as we arrived at Paris, the story was told to the 
fueen, who at first expressed some surprise at it : this, how- 
ever, did not prevent her from wishing to see my chaplain 
dance ; for in Spain it is not altogether so strange to see eccle- 
siastics dance, as to see them in livery. 

" Poussatin performed wonders before the queen ; but as 
he danced with great sprightliness, she could not bear the 
odour which his violent motions diffused around her room : 
the ladies likewise began to pray for relief; for he had almost 
entirely got the better of all the perfumes and essences with 
which they were fortified : Poussatin, nevertheless, retired 
with a great deal of applause, and some louis d'or. 

" Some time afterwards I procured a small benefice in the 
country for my chaplain, and I have since been informed that 
Poussatin preached with the same ease in his village, as he 
danced at the wedding of his parishioners." 

The king was exceedingly diverted at Poussatin's history; 
and the queen was not much hurt at his having been put in 
livery: the treatment of Gregorio Price offended her far 
more ; and being desirous to justify the court of Spain, with 
respect to so cruel a proceeding : " Chevalier de Grammont," 
said she, " what heresy did Governor Brice wish to introduce 
into the state ? What crime against religion was he charged 
with, that he was confined in the Inquisition?" " Madam," 
said he, " the history is not very proper to be related before 
your majesty : it was a little amorous frolic, ill-timed, indeed ; 
but poor Brice meant no harm : a schoolboy would not have 
been whipped for such a fault, in the most severe college in 
France ; as it was only for giving some proofs of his affection 



156 Moionis OF 

to a young Spanish fair one, who had fixed her eyes upon him 
on a solemn occasion.** 

The king desired to know the particukars of the adventure ; 
and the Chevalier gratified his curiosity, as soon as the queen 
and the rest of the court were out of hearing. It was very 
entertaining to hear him tell a story ; but it was very dis- 
agreeable to differ with him, either in competition, or in rail- 
lery : it is true that at that time there were few persons at 
the English court who had merited his indignation : Russell 
was sometimes the subject of his ridicule, but he treated him 
far more tenderly than he usually did a rival. 

This E-ussell was one of the most furious dancers in all 
England, I mean, for country dances : he had a collection of 
two or three hundred in print, all of which he danced at sight ; 
and to prove that he was not an old man, he sometimes danced 
until he was almost exhausted : his mode of dancing was like 
that of his clothes, for they both had been out of fashion full 
twenty years. 

The Chevalier de Grammont was very sensible that he was 
very much in love ; but though he saw very well that it only 
rendered him more ridiculous, yet he felt some concern at the 
information he received, of his intention of demanding Miss 
Hamilton in marriage ; but his concern did not last long. 

Russell, being u])on tbe point of setting out on a journey, 
thought it was proper to acquaint his mistress with his inten- 
tions before his departure. The Chevalier de Grammont was 
a great obstacle to the interview he v^as desirous of obtaining 
of her ; but being one day sent for, to go and play at Lady 
Castlemaine's, Russell seized the opportunity, and addressing 
himself to Miss Hamilton, with less embarrassment than is usual 
on such occasions, he made his declaration to her in the fol- 
Jowinf^ manner : " I am brother to the Earl of Bedford : I 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 1^7 

command the regiment of guards : I have three thousand 
pounds a year, and fifteen thousand in ready money: all 
which. Madam, I come to present to you, along with my per- 
son. One present, I agree, is not worth much without the 
other, and therefore I put them together. I am advised to go 
to- some of the watering j)]aces for something of an asthma, 
which, in ail probability, cannot continue much longer, as I 
have had it for these last twenty years : if you look upon me 
as worthy of the happiness of belonging to you, I shall pro- 
pose it to your father, to whom I did not think it right to 
apply, before I was acq[uainted w^ith youj sentiments : my 
nephew William is at present entirely ignorant of my inten- 
tion ; but I believe he will not be sorry for it, though he will 
thereby see himself deprived of a pretty considera,ble estate ; 
for he has great affection for me, and besides, he has a plea- 
sure in paying his respects to you since he has perceived my 
attachment. I am very much pleased that he should make 
his court to me, by the attention he pays to you ; for he did 
nothing but squander his money upon that coquet Middleton, 
while at present he is at no expense, though he frequents the 
best company in England." 

Miss Hamilton had much difficulty to suppress her laughter 
during this harangue : however, she told him, that she thought 
herself much honoured by his intentions towards her, and still 
more obliged to him for consulting her, before he made any over- 
tures to her relations : " It will be time enough,'' said she, " to 
speak to them upon the subject at your return from the waters ; 
for I do not think it is at all probable that they will dispose 
of me before that time, and m case they should be urgent in 
their solicitations, your nephew William will take care to ac- 
quaint you ; therefore, you may set out whenever you think 
proper ; but ta.ke care not to injure your health by returning 
too soon." 



15S MEMOIRS or 

The Chevalier do Grammont, Laving heard the particulars 
of this conversation, endeavoured as well as he could to be 
entertained with it ; though there were certain circumstances 
in the declaration, notwithstanding the absurdity of others, 
which did not fail to give him some uneasiness. Upon the 
^vdiole, he was not sorry for Russell's departure ; and, assuming 
an air of pleasantry, he went to relate to the king, how Hea- 
ven had favoured him, by delivering him from so dangerous 
a rival. " He is gono then, Chevalier ?" said the king 
" Certainly, Sir," said he , 'I had the honour to see him em-^ 
bark in a coach, with his asthma, and country equipage, his 
perrugue a calotte^ neatly tied v/ith a yellow riband, and his 
old-fashioned hat covered with oil-skin, which becomes him 
uncommonly well ; thcTefore, I have only to contend with 
William Russell, whom he leaves as his resident with Misa 
Hamilton ; and, as for him, I neither fear him upon his own 
account, nor his uncle's: he is too much in love himself, to 
pay attention to the interests of another ; and as he has but 
one method of promoting his ov/n, which is by sacrificing the 
portrait, or some love-letters of Mrs. Mi^dleton, I have it 
easily in my power to counteract him in such kind of favours, 
though I confess I have pretty well paid for them." 

" Since your affairs proceed so prosperously with the Rus- 
sells," said the king, " I will acquaint you that you are 
delivered from another rival, much more dangerous, if he were 
not already married : my brother has lately fallen in love 
with Lady Chesterfield." " How many blessings at once ! '* 
exclaimed the Chevalier de Grammont : " I hav^e so many 
obligations to him for this inconstancy, that I would willingly 
serve him in his new amour, if- Hamilton was not his rival: 
nor will your mnjesty take it ill, if I promote the interests of 
my mistress's brother, ratlier than those of your majesty's 
brother." " Hamilton, however," said the king, ^' does not 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 159 

stand so much in need cf assistance, in affairs of tliis nature, 
as the Duke of York ; but I know Lord Chesterfield is of 
such a disposition, that he will not suffer men to quarrel about 
his wife, with the same patience as the complaisant Shrews- 
bury ; though he well deserves the same fate." Here follows 
a true description of Lord Chesterfield. ^^^ 

He had a very agreeable face, a fine head of hair, an in- 
different shape, and a worse air ; he was not, however, deficient 
in wit : a long residence in Italy had made him ceremonious 
in his commerce with men, and jealous in his connection with 
women. He had been much hated by the king, because he 
had been much beloved by Lady Castlemaine : it was reported 
that he had been in her good graces prior to her marriage ; 
and as neither of them denied it. it was the more generally 
believed. 

He had paid his devoirs to the eldest daughter of the Duke 
of Ormond, while his heart was still taken up with his former 
passion. The king's love for Lady Castlemaine, and the ad- 
vancement he expected from such an alliance, made him press 
the match with as much ardour as if he had been passionately 
in love : he had therefore married Lady Chesterfield without 
loving her, and had lived some time with her in such coolness, 
as to leave her no room to doubt of his indifference. As she 
was endowed with great sensibility and delicacy, she suffered 
at this contempt : she was at first much affected with his 
behaviour, and afterwards enraged at it ; and, when he began 
to give her proofs of his affection, she had the pleasure cf 
convincing him of her indifference. 

They were upon this footing, when she resolved to cure 
Hamilton, as she had lately done her husband, of all his re- 
maining tenderness for Lady Castlemaine. For her it was 
no difficult undertaking: the conversation of the one was 



IGO MEMOIRS OP 

uisagrceable, from tbe unpolished state of her manners, her ill- 
tuned pride, her uneven temper, and extravagant humours : 
Lady Chesterfield, on the contrary, knew how to heighten 
her charms, with all the bewitching attractions in the power 
of a woman to invent, who wishes to make a conquest. 

Besides all this, she had greater opportunities of making 
advances to him, than to any other : she lived at the Duke of 
Ormond's, at Whitehall, v/here Hamilton, as was said before, 
had free admittance at all hours : her extreme coldness, or 
rather the disgust which she shewed for her husband's return- 
ing affection, wakened his natural inclination to jealousy: 
he suspected that she could not so very suddenly pass from 
anxiety to indifference for him, without some secret object of 
a new attachment ; and, according to the maxims of all jea- 
lous husbands, he immediately put in practice all his expe- 
rience and industry, in order to make a discovery, which was 
to destroy his own happiness. 

Hamilton, who knew his disposition, was, on the other 
hand, upon his guard, and the more he advanced in his in- 
trig ae, the more attentive was he to remove every degree of 
suspicion from the earFs mind : he pretended to make him 
his confidant, in the most unguarded and open manner, of hi? 
passion for Lady Castlemaine : he complained of her caprice, 
and most earnestly desired his advice how to succeed with a 
person whose affections he alone had entirely possessed. 

Chesterfield, who was flattered with this discourse, pro- 
mised him his protection with greater sincerity than it had 
been demanded : Hamilton, therefore, was no further em- 
barrased than to preserve Lady Chesterfield's reputation, who, 
in his opinion, declared herself rather too openly in his 
favour : but v/hilst he was diligently employed in regulating, 
77ithin the rules of discretion, the partiality she expressed for 



COUNT GRAjIMONT. "iO'l 

liiiii, and in conjuring lier to restrain lier glances wittin 
bounds, she was receiving those of the Duke of York ; and, 
what is more, made them favourable returns. 

He thought that he had perceived it, as well as every one 
besides ; but he thought likewise, that all the world was de- 
ceived as well as himself: how could he trust his own eyes, 
as to what those of Lady Chesterfield betrayed for this new 
rival ? He could not think it probable, that a woman of her 
disposition could relish a man, whose manners had a thousand 
times been the subject of their private ridicule ; but what he 
j udged still more improbable was, that she should begin ano- 
ther intrigue before she had given the finishing stroke to that 
in which her own advances had engaged her : however, he 
began to observe her with more circumspection, when he 
found by his discoveries, that if she did not deceive him, at 
least the desire of doing so was not wanting. This he took 
the liberty of telling her of ; but she answered him in so high 
a strain, and treated what he said so much like a phantom of 
his own imagination, that he appeared confused without 
being convinced : all the satisfaction he could procure from 
her, was her telling him, in a haughty manner, that such 
unjust reproaches as his ought to have had a better foun- 
dation. 

Lord Chesterfield had taken the same alarm; and being- 
convinced, from the observations he had made, that he had 
found out the happy lover who had gained possession of his 
lady's heart, he was satisfied ; and without teazing her with 
unnecessary reproaches, he only waited for an opportunity to 
confound her, before he took his measures. 

After all, how can we account for Lady Chesterfield's con- 
duct, unless we attribute it to the disease incident to most 
coquettes, who, charmed with superiority, put in practice 



u02 MEMOiJlS OF 

every art to rob another of licr conquest, and spare nothing 
to preserve it. 

But before we enter into the particulars of this adventure, 
let us take a retrospect of the amours of his royal highness, 
prior to the declaration of his marriage, and particularly of 
what immediately preceded this declaration. It is allowable 
sometimes to drop the thread of a narrative, when real facts, 
not generally known, give such a variety upon the digression 
a^ to render it excusable : let us see then how those things 
happened. 

The Duke of York's marriage with the chancellor's daugh- 
ter was deficient in none of those circumstances which ren- 
der contracts of this nature valid in the eye of heaven : the 
mutual inclination, the formal ceremony, witnesses, and every 
essential point of matrimony, had been observed. ^^2 

Though the bride was no perfect beauty, yet, as there were 
none at the court of Holland who eclipsed her, the duke, dur- 
ing the first endearments of matrimony, was so far from 
repenting of it, that he seemed only to wish for the king's 
restoration, that he might have an opportunity of declaring it 
with splendour; but when he saw himself enjoying a rank 
which placed him so near the throne ; when the possession of 
Miss Hyde afforded him no new charms ; when England, so 
abounding in beauties, displayed all that was charming and 
lovely in the court of the king his brother ; and when he con- 
sidered he was the only prince, who, from such superior 
elevation, had descended so low, he began to reflect upon it. 
On the one hand, his marriage appeared to him particularly ill 
suited in every respect : he recollected that Jermyn had not 
engaged him in an intimacy with Miss Hyde, until he had 
convinced him, by several different circumstances, of the faci- 
lity of succeeding : he looked upon his marriage as an infringe- 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 1G3 

meut of that duty and obedience he owed to the king ; the 
indignation with which the court, and even the whole king- 
dom, would receive the account of his marriage, presented 
itself to his imagination, together with the impossibility of 
obtaining the king's consent to such an act, which for a thou- 
sand reasons he would be obliged to refuse. On the other 
hand, the tears and despair of poor Miss Hyde presented 
themselves ; and still more than that, he felt a remorse of con- 
science, the scruples of which began from that time to rise up 
against him. 

In the midst of this perplexity he opened his heart to Lord 
Falmouth, and consulted with him what method he ought to 
pursue. He could not have applied to a better man for his 
own interests, nor to a worse for Miss Hyde's ; for at first, 
Falmouth maintained not only that he was not married, but 
that it was even impossible that he could ever have formed 
such a thought ; that any marriage was invalid for him, which 
was made without the king's consent, even if the party was a 
suitable match : but that it was a mere jest, even to think of 
the daughter of an insignificant lawyer, whom the favour of 
his sovereign had lately made a peer of the realm, without 
any noble blood, and chancellor, without any capacity ; that 
as for his scruples, he had only to give ear to some gentlemen 
whom he could introduce, who would thoroughly inform him 
of Miss Hyde's conduct, before he became acquainted with 
her; and provided he did not tell them that he really was 
married, he would soon have sufficient grounds to come to a 
determination. 

The Duke of York consented, and Lord Falmouth having 
assembled both his counsel and his witnesses, conducted them 
to his royal highness's cabinet, after having instructed them 
how to act : these gentlemen were the Earl of Arran, Jermyn, 
Talbot, and Killegrew, all men of honour; but v/ho infinitely 

M 2 



]64- ME3101KS OF 

preferred the Duke of York's interest to Miss Hyde's repu- 
tation, aitd Avlio, besides, were greatly dissatisfied, as well as 
the whole court, at the insolent authority of the prime minister. 
The duke having told them, after a sort of preamble^ that 
although they could not be ignorant of his affection for Miss 
Hyde, yet they might be unacquainted with the engagements 
his tenderness for her had induced him to contract ; that he 
thought himself obliged to perform all the promises he had 
made her ; but as the innocence of persons of her age was 
generally exposed to court scandal, and as certain reports, 
whether false or true, had been spread abroad on the subject 
of her conduct, he conjured them as his friends, and charged 
them upon their duty, to tell him sincerely every thing they 
knew upon the subject, since he was resolved to make their 
evidence the rule of his conduct towards her. They all ap- 
peared rather reserved at first, and seemed not to dare to give 
their opinions upon an affair of so serious and delicate a na- 
ture ; but the Duke of York having renewed his entreaties, 
each began to relate the particulars of what he knew, and 
perhaps of more than he knew, of poor Miss Hyde ; nor did 
they omit any circumstance necessary to strengthen the evi- 
dence. For instance, the Earl of Arran, who spoke first, 
deposed, that in the gallery at Honslaerdyk, where the Coun- 
tess of Ossory, his sister-in-law, and Jermyn, were playing at 
nine-pins. Miss Hyde, pretending to be sick, retired to a 
^liamber at the end of the gallery ; that he, the deponent, had 
followed her, and having cut her lace, to give a greater 
})iobability to the pretence of the vapours, he had acquitted 
himself to the best of his abilities, both to assist and to 
console her. 

Talbot said, that she had made an appointment with him in 
the chancellor's cabinet, while he was in council ; and, that 
not payin^^ so much attention to what was upon the table, as 



(3 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 165 

10 wliat tliey v/cre engaged in, tliey liad ^3pilled a bottle full 
of ink upon a despatch of four pages, and that the king's 
monkey, which was blamed for this accident, had been a long 
time in disgrace. 

Jermyn mentioned many places where he had received long 
and favourable audiences : however, all these articles of 
accusation amounted only to some delicate familiarities, or at 
most, to what is generally denominated the innocent part of 
an intrigue ; but Killegrew, who wished to surpass these 
trivial depositions, boldly declared that he had had the honour 
of being upon the most intimate terms with her : he was of 
a sprightly and witty humour, and had the art of telling a 
story in the most entertaining manner, by the graceful and 
natural turn he could give it : he affirmed that he had found 
the critical minute in a certain closet built over the water, 
for a purpose very different from that of giving ease to the 
pains of love : that three or four swans had been witnesses 
to his happiness, and might perhaps have been witnesses to 
the happiness of many others, as the lady frequently repaired 
to that place, and was particularly delighted with it. 

The Duke of York found this last accusation greatly out 
of bounds, being convinced he himself had sufficient proofs 
of the contrary : he therefore returned tha^nks to these offi- 
cious informers for their frankness, ordered them to be silent 
for the future upon v/hat they had been telling him, and 
immediately passed into the king's apartment. 

As soon as he had entered the cabinet. Lord Falmouth, 
who had followed him, related what had passed to the Earl 
of Ossory, whom he met in the presence chamber ; they 
strongly suspected what was the subject of the conversation 
of the two brothers, as it was long ; and the Duke of York 
appeared to be in such agitation when he came out, that they 
no longer doubted that the result had been unfavourable for 



IGC MKMOIRS OF 

] cor 31i^d Hyde. Lord Falmouth began to be affected for 
lier disi,n-ace, and to relent that he had been concerned in it, 
when the Duke of York told him and the Earl of Ossory to 
meet h ui in about an hour's time at the chancellors. 

They were rather surprised that he should have the cruelty 
himself to announce sr.ch a melancholy piece of news : they 
found his royal highness at the appointed hour in Miss 
Hyde's chamber: a few tears trickled down her cheeks, 
which she endeavoured to restrain. The chancellor, leaning 
against the wall, appeared to them to be puffed up with 
something, which they did not doubt was rage and despair. 
The Duke of York said to them, with that sere^ne and plea- 
sant countenance with which men generally announce good 
news: " As you are the two men of the court whom I most 
esteem, I am desirous you should first have the honour of 
paying your compliments to the Duchess of York: there 
she is." 

Surprise was of no use, and astonishment was unseason- 
able on the present occasion : they were, however, so greatly 
possessed with both surprise and astonishment, that in order 
to conceal it, they immediately fell on their knees to kiss 
her hand, which she gave to them with as much majesty as 
if she had been used to it all her life. 

The next day the news was made public, and the whole 
court was eager to pay her that respect, from a sense of duty, 
which in the end became very sincere. 

The petits mattres who had spoken against her, seeing 
their intentions disappointed, were not a little embarrassed, 
^''omen are seldom accustomed to forgive injuries of this 
nature ; and, if they promise themselves the pleasure of re- 
venge, when they gain the power, they seldom forget it : in 
the present case, however, the fears of these j?etits-maftres 
were their only punishment. 



COUNT GHAMMONT. 167 

The Duchess of York, being fully informed of all that 
was said in the cabinet concerning her, instead of shewing 
the least resentment, studied to distinguish, by all manner 
of kindness and good offices, those who had attacked her in 
so sensible a part ; nor did she ever mention it to them, but 
in order to praise their zeal, and to tell them, " that nothing 
was a greater proof of the attachment of a man of honour, 
than his being more solicitous for the interest of his friend, 
or master, than for his own reputation :" a remarkable exam- 
ple of prudence and moderation, not only for the fair sex, but 
even for those who value themselves most upon their philo- 
sophy among the men. 

The Duke of York, having quieted his conscience by the 
declaration of his marriage, thought that he was entitled, by 
this generous effort, to give way a little to his inconstancy : 
he therefore immediately seized upon whatever he could first 
lay his hands upon : this was Lady Carnegy,^^^ who had been 
in several other hands. She was still tolerably handsome, 
and her disposition, naturally inclined to tenderness, did not 
oblige her new lover long to languish. Every thing coin- 
cided with their wishes for some time : Lord Carnegy, her 
husband, was in Scotland; but his father dying suddenly, 
he as suddenly returned with the title of Southesk, which 
his wife detested ; but which she took more patiently than 
she received the news of his return. Some private intima- 
tion had been given him of the honour that was done him in 
his absence; nevertheless, he did not shew his jealousy at 
first ; but, as he was desirous to be satisfied of the reality of 
the fact, he kept a strict watch over his wife's actions. The 
Duke of York and her ladyship had, for some time, been 
upon such terms of intimacy, as not to pass their time in 
frivLiOus amusements; however, the husband's return obliged 
them to maintain some decorum : he therefore never went to 



If) 15 MEMOIRS OF ; 

licr house, but in form, that is to say, always accompanied 
by some friend or other, to give his amours at least tlie 
appearance of a visit. 

About this time Talbot ^^^ returned from Portugal: this 
connection had taken place during his absence ; and without 
knowing who Lady Southesk was, he had been informed that 
his master was in love with her. 

A few days after his arrival, he was can-ied, merely to 
keep up appearances, to her house by the duke ; and after 
being introduced, and some compliments having been paid on 
both sides, he thought it his duty to give his royal highness 
an opportunity to pay his compliments, and accordingly re- 
tired into the ante-chamber, which looked into the street, and 
placed himself at the window to view the people as they 
passed. 

He was one of the best -meaning men in the world on such 
occasions ; but was so subject to forgetfulness and absence 
of mind, that he once forgot, and left behind him at London, 
a complimentary letter which the duke had given him for 
the Infanta of Portugal, and never recollected it till he was 
going to his audience. 

He stood sentry, as we have before said, very attentive 
to his instructions, when he saw a coach stop at the door, 
without being in the least concerned at it, and still less, at 
a man whom he saw get out of it, and whom he immediately 
heard coming up stairs. 

The devil, who ought to be civil upon such occasions, 
forgot himself in the present instance, and brought up Lord 
Southesk ill propria persond : his royal highness's equi- 
page had been sent home, because my lady had assured him 
that her husband was gone to see a bear and a bull baiting, 
an entertainment in which he took great delight, and from 
v/hence he seldom returned until it was very late ; so tbat 



COUNT GRAMMONT. I GO 

^outhesk, not seeing any equipage at the door, little imn - 
gined that he had such good company in his house ; but if 
he was surprised to see Talbot carelessly lolling in his wife's 
ante-chamber, his surprise was soon over. Talbot, who had 
not seen him since they were in Flanders, and never suppos- 
ing that he had changed his name : " Welcome, Carnegv, 
welcome, my good fellow," said he, giving him his hand, 
" where the devil have you been, that I have never been 
able to set eyes on you since we were at Brussels ? What 
business brought you here? Do you likewise wish to see 
Lady Southesk ? If this is your intention, my poor friend, 
you may go away again ; for I must inform you, the Duke of 
York is in love with her, and I will tell you in confidence, 
that, at this very time, he is in her chamber/' 

Southesk, confounded as one may suppose, had no time to 
answer all these fine questions : Talbot, therefore, attended 
him down stairs as his friend ; and, as his humble servant, 
advised him to seek for a mistress elsewhere. Southesk, not 
knowing what else to do at that time, returned to his coach ; 
and Talbot, overjoyed at the adventure, impatiently waited 
for the duke's return, that he might acquaint him with it ; but 
he was very much surprised to find that the story afforded 
no pleasure to those who had the principal share in it ; and 
his greatest concern was, that Carnegy had changed his name, 
as if only to draw him into such a confidence. 

This accident broke off a commerce which the Duke of 
York did not much regret ; and indeed it was happy for him 
that he became indifferent; for the traitor Southesk medi- 
tated a revenge, ^^^ whereby, without using either assassina- 
tion or poison, he would have obtained some satisfaction upon 
those who had injured him, if the connection had continued 
any longer. 

He went to the most infamous places, to seek for the most 



170 MEMOIRS OF 



4 



infamous disease, Tvhicb he met with ; but his revenge was 
only half completed; for after he had gone through every 
remedy to get quit of his disease, his lady did but return 
him his present, having no more connection with the person 
for whom it was so industriously prepared. 

Lady Robarts ^^^ was then in the zenith of her glory : her 
beauty was striking; yet notwithstanding the brightness of 
the finest complexion, with all the bloom of youth, and with 
every requisite for inspiring desire, she nevertheless was not 
attractive. The Duke of York, however, would probal>ly 
have been successful, if difficulties, almost insurmountable, 
had not disappointed his good intentions : Lord Robarts, her 
husband, was an old, snarling, troublesome, peevish fellow, 
in love with her to distraction, and, to complete her misery, 
a perpetual attendant on her person. 

She perceived his royal highnesses attachment to her, 
and seemed as if she was inclined to be grateful : this re- 
doubled his eagerness, and every outward mark of tender- 
ness he could possibly shew her; but the watchful husband 
redoubling his zeal and assiduity, as he found the approaches 
advance, every art was practised to render him tractable: 
several attacks were made upon his avarice and his ambi- 
tion. Those who possessed the greatest share of his con- 
fidence, insinuated to him, that it was his own fault, if 
Lady Robarts, who was so worthy of being at court, was 
not received into some considerable post, either about the 
queen or the duchess : he was ofi*ered to be made lord lieu- 
tenant of the county where his estate was ; or to have the 
management of the Duke of York's revenues in Ireland, of 
which he should have the entire disposal, provided he imme- 
diately set out to take possession of his charge ; and having 
accomplished it, hs might return as soon as ever he thought 
proper. 



COUNT GRAMi'.iOr>T. 171 

He perfectly well understood tlie meaning of these propo- 
sals, and was fully apprized of the advantages he might reap 
from them : in vain did ambition and avarice hold out their 
allurements ; he was deaf to all their temptations, nor could 
ever the old fellow be persuaded to be made a cuckold. It 
is not always an aversion to, or a dread of this distinction, 
which preserves us from it : of this her husband was very 
sensible ; therefore, under the pretence of a pilgrimage to 
Saint Winifred the virgin and martyr, who was said to cure 
women of barrenness, he did not rest, until the highest moun- 
tains in Wales were between his wife and the person who 
had designed to perform this miracle in London, after his 
departure. 

The duke was for some time entirely taken up with the 
pleasures of the chase, and only now and then engaged in 
those of love ; but his taste having undergone a change in 
this particular, and the remembrance of Lady Robarts wear- 
ing off by degrees, his eyes and wishes were turned towards 
Miss Brook ; and it was in the height of this pursuit, that 
Lady Chesterfield threw herself into his arms, as we shall 
see, by resuming the sequel of her adventures. 

The Earl of Bristol, ^^'^ ever restless and ambitious, had put 
in practice every art to possess himself of the king's favour. 
As this is the same Digby whom Count Bussy mentions in 
his Annals, it will be sufficient to say, that he was not at all 
changed : he knew that love and pleasure had possession of a 
master, whom he himself governed in defiance of the chan- 
cellor ; thus, he was continually giving entertainments at his 
house ; and luxury and elegance seemed to rival each other 
in those nocturnal feasts, which always lead to other enjoy- 
ments. The two Miss Brooks, his relations, were always of 
those parties : they were both formed by nature to excite love 
in others, as well as to be susceptible of it themselves ; they 
were just what the king wanted : the earl, from this com- 



172 MEMOIRS or 

mencement, was beginning to entertain a good opinion of liia 
project, when Lady Castlemaine, who had lately gained en- 
tire possession of the king's heart, was not in a humour, at 
that time, to share it with another, as she did very indiscreetly 
afterwards, despising Miss Stewart. As soon, therefore, aa 
.she received intimation of these secret practices, under pre- 
tence of attending the king in his parties, she entirely discon- 
certed them; so that the earl was obliged to lay aside his 
projects, and Miss Brook to discontinue her advances. The 
king did not even dare to think any more on this subject ; but 
his brother was pleased to look after what he neglected ; and 
Miss Brook accepted the offer of his heart, until it pleased 
heaven to dispose of her otherwise, which happened soon 
after in the following manner. 

Sir John Denham,^^^ loaded with wealth as well as years, 
had passed his youth in the midst of those pleasures which 
people at that age indulge in without restraint : he was one 
of the brightest geniuses England ever produced for wit and 
humour, and for brilliancy of composition : satirical and free 
in his poems, he spared neither frigid writers, nor jealous hus- 
bands, nor even their wives : every part abounded with the 
most poignant wit, and the most entertaining stories ; but his 
most delicate and spirited raillery turned generally against 
matrimony ; and, as if he wished to confirm, by his own ex- 
ample, the truth of what he had written in his youth, he mar- 
ried, at the age of seventy-nine, this Miss Brook of whom we 
arc speaking, v/ho was only eighteen. 

The Duke of York had rather neglected her for some time 
before ; bat the circumstance of so unequal a match rekindled 
his ardour ; and she, on her j)art, suffered him to entertain 
hopes of an approaching bliss, which a thousand considerations 
had opposed before her marriage : she wished to belong to the 
court ; and for tlic promise of being made lady of the bed- 



COUNT GRAMMOXT. 173 

chamber to the duchess, she was upon the point of making 
him another promise, or of immediately performing it, if re- 
quired, when, in the middle of this treaty. Lady Chesterfield 
was tempted by her evil genius to rob her of her conquest, in 
order to disturb all the world. 

However, as Lady Chesterfield could not see the Duke of 
York, except in public assemblies, she was under the neces- 
sity of making the most extravagant advances, in order to 
seduce him from his former connection ; and as he was tlie 
most unguarded ogler of his time, the whole court was informed 
of the intrigue before it was well begun. 

Those who appeared the most attentive to their conduct, 
were not the least interested in it ; Hamilton and Lord Ches- 
terfield watched them narrowly; but Lady Denham, vexed 
that Lady Chesterfield should have stepped in before her, took 
the liberty of railing against her rival with the greatest bit- 
terness. Hamilton had hitherto flattered himself, that vanity 
alone had engaged Lady Chesterfield in this adventure ; but 
he was soon undeceived, whatever her indiflerence might have 
been when she first commenced this intrigue. We often pro- 
ceed farther than we at first intended, when we indulge our- 
selves in trifling liberties, which we think of no consequence ; 
for though perhaps the heart takes no part at the beginnings 
it seldom fails to be engaged in the end. 

The court, as we have mentioned before, was an entire 
scene of gallantry and amusements, with all the politeness 
and magnificence, which the inclinations of a prince, naturally 
addicted to tenderness and pleasure, could suggest ; the beau- 
ties were desirous of charming, and the men endeavoured to 
please ; all studied to set themselves ofi" to the best advantages- 
some distinguished themselves by dancing ; others by show 
and magnificence ; some by their wit, many by their amours, 
but few by their constancy. There was a certain Italian at 



174 MEMOIRS OF 

court, famous for the guitar; he had a gculus for music, 
and he was the only man who could make any thing 
of the guitar: his style of play was so full of grace and 
tenderness, that he would have given harmony to the most 
discordant instruments. The truth is, nothing was so diffi- 
cult as to play like this foreigner. The king's relish for 
his compositions had brought the instrument so much into 
vogue, that every person played upon it, well or ill ; and you 
were as sure to see a guitar on a lady's toilette, as rouge or 
patches. The Duke of York played upon it tolerably well, 
and the Earl of Arran like Francisco himself. This Francisco 
had composed a saraband, which either charmed or infatuated 
every person ; for the whole guitarery at court were trying at 
it, and God knows what an universal strumming there was. 
The Duke of York, pretending not to be perfect in it, desired 
Lord Arran to play it to him. Lady Chesterfield had the 
best guitar in England. The Earl of Arran, who was desirous 
of playing his best, conducted his royal highness to his sis- 
ter s apartments ; she was lodged at court, at her father's, the 
Duke of Ormondes, and this wondefful guitar was lodged there 
too. Whether this visit had been preconcerted or not, I do 
not pretend to say ; but it is certain that they found both the 
lady and the guitar at home ; they likewise found there Lord 
Chesterfield, so much surprised at this unexpected visit, that 
it was a considerable time before he thought of rising from his 
seat, to receive them with due respect. 

Jealousy, like a malignant vapour, now seized upon his 
brain ; a thousand suspicions, blacker than ink, took posses- 
sion of his imagination, and were continually increasing; for 
whilst the brother played upon the guitar to the duke, the 
sister ogled and accompanied him with her eyes, as if the coast 
had been clear, and no enemy to observe them. This sara- 
band wajs at least repeated twenty times ; the duke declared 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 175 

it was played to perfection. Lady Chesterfield found fault 
with the composition ; but her husband, who clearly perceived 
thai he was the person played upon, thought it a most detest- 
able piece. However, though he was in the last agony, at 
being obliged to curb his passion, while others gave a free 
scope to theirs, he was resoWed to find out the drift of the 
visit ; but it was not in his power ; for having the honour to 
be chamberlain to the queen, a messenger came to require his 
immediate attendance on her majesty. His first thought was 
to pretend sickness ; the second to suspect that the queen, who 
sent for him at such an unseasonable time, was in the plot ; 
but at last, after all the extravagant ideas of a suspicious man, 
and all the irresolutions of a jealous husband, he was obliged 
to go. 

We may easily imagine what his state of mind was when 
he arrived at the palace. Alarms are to the jealous, what 
disasters are to the unfortunate : they seldom come alone, 
but form a series of persecution. He was informed that he 
was sent for to attend the queen at an audience she gave to 
seven or eight Muscovite ambassadors : he had scarce begun 
to curse the Muscovites, when his brother-in-law appeared, 
and drew upon himself all the imprecations he bestowed upon 
the embassy : he no longer doubted his being in the plot with 
the two persons he had left together ; and in his heart sin- 
cerely wished him such recompense for his good ofiices as 
such good offices deserved. It was with great difficulty that 
he restrained himself from immediately acquainting him what 
was his opinion of such conduct : he thought that what he 
had already seen was a 'sufficient proof of his wife's infidelity; 
but before the end of the very same day, some circumstances 
occurred, which increased his suspicions, and persuaded him, 
that they had taken advantage of his absence, and of the 
honourable officiousness of his brother-in-law. He passed, 



176 MEMOIRS OF 

however, that night with tranquillity ; but the next niorninr', 
being reduced to the necessity either of bursting or givin<^ 
vent to his sorrows and conjectures, he did nothing but think 
and walk about the room until Park-time. He went to 
court, seemed very busy, as if seeking for some person or 
other, imagining that people guessed at the subject of his 
uneasiness: he avoided everybody; but at length meeting 
with Hamilton, he thought he was the very man that he 
wanted ; and having desired him to take an airing with him 
in Hyde Park, he took him up in his coach, and they arrived 
at the Ring, without a word having passed between them. 

Hamilton, who saw him as yellow as jealousy itself, and 
particularly thoughtful, imagined that he had just discovered 
what all the world had perceived long before ; when Chester- 
field, after a broken insignificant preamble, asked him how he 
succeeded with Lady Castlemaine. Hamilton, who very well 
saw that he meant nothing by this question, nevertheless 
thanked him ; and as he was thinking of an answer : '* Your 
cousin,'* said the earl, " is extremely coquettish, and I have 
some reason to suppose she is not so prudent as she ought to 
be." Hamilton thought the last charge a little too severe ; 
and as he was endeavouring to refute it : '' Good God," said 
my lord, " you see, as well as the whole court, what airs she 
gives herself : husbands are always the last people that are 
spoken to about those affairs that concern them the most ; 
but they are not always the last to perceive it themselves : 
though you have made me your confidant in other matters, 
yet I am not at all sui-prised you have concealed this from 
me ; but as I flatter myself with having some share in your 
esteem, I should be sorry you should think me such a fool as 
to be incapable of seeing, though I am so complaisant as not 
to express my sentiments : nevertheless, I find that aftairs are 
now carried on with such barefaced boldness, that at length 



COUNT GRAMMONT. l7 7 

I find I shall be forced to take some course or otlier. God 
forbid that I should act the ridiculous part of a jealous hus- 
band : the character is odious ; but then I do not intend, 
through an excess of patience, to be made the jest of the 
town. Judge, therefore, from what I am going to tell you^ 
whether I ought to sit down unconcerned, or whether I ought 
to take measures for the preservation of my honour. 

" His royal highness honoured me yesterday by a visit 
to my wife.'' Hamilton started at this beginning. " Yes," 
continued the other, " he did give himself that trouble, and 
Lord Arran took upon himself that of bringing him : do not 
you wonder that a man of his birth should act such a part ? 
What advancement can he expect from one who employs hira 
in such base services ? But we have long known him to be 
one of the silliest creatures in England, with his guitar, and 
his other whims and follies." Chesterfield, after this short 
sketch of his brother-in-law's merit, began to relate the obser- 
vations he had made during the visit, and asked Hamilton 
what he thought of his cousin Arran, who had so obligingly 
left them together. " This may appear surprising to you," 
continued he, "but hear me out, and judge whether I have 
reason to think that the close of this pretty visit passed in 
perfect innocence. Lady Chesterfield is amiable, it must be 
acknowledged ; but she is far from being such a miracle of 
beauty as she supposes herself: you know she has ugly feet ; 
but perhaps you are not acquainted that she has still worse 
legs.'' "Pardon me," said Hamilton, within himself: and 
the other continuing the description : " Her legs," said his 
lordship, " are short and thick ; and, to remedy these defects 
as much as possible, she seldom wears any other than green 
stockings." 

Hamilton could not for his life imagine the drift of all 
this discourse, and Chesterfield guessing his thoughts : " Have 

N 



178 MEMOIRS OP 

n little patience," said lie : " I went yesterday to Miss 
Stewart's, after the audience of those damned Muscovites : 
the king arrived there just before me ; and as if the duke 
had sworn to pursue me wherever I went that day, he came 
in just after me. The conversation turned upon the extra- 
ordinary appearance of the ambassadors. I know not where 
that fool Crofts had heard that all these Muscovites had 
handsome wives ; and that all their wives had handsome legs. 
Upon this the king maintained, that no woman ever had 
such handsome legs as Miss Stewart; and she, to prove the 
truth of his majesty's assertion, with the greatest imaginable 
ease, immediately shewed her leg above the knee. Some 
were ready to prostrate themselves, in order to adore its 
beauty ; for indeed none can be handsomer ; but the duke 
alone began to criticize upon it. He contended that it w^as 
too slender, and that as for himself he would give nothing 
for a leg that was not thicker and shorter, and concluded by 
saying, that no leg was worth any thing without green stock- 
ings : now this, in my opinion, was a sufficient demonstra- 
tion that he had just seen green stockings, and had them 
fresh in his remembrance." 

Hamilton was at a loss what countenance to put on, 
during a narrative which raised in him nearly the same con- 
jectures : he shrugged up his shoulders, and faintly said 
that appearances were often deceitful ; that Lady Chester- 
field had the foible of all beauties, who place their merit on 
the number of their admirers; and whatever airs she might 
inij)rudently have given herself, in order not to discourage 
liis royal highness, there was no ground to suppose that she 
would indulge him in any greater liberties to engage him : 
but in vain was it that he endeavoured to giv^e that consola- 
tion to his friend which he did not feel himself. Chester- 
field plainly perceived he did not think of what he was 



COUIsT GRAIvIMONT. 179 

saying; however, he thought himself much ohliged to him 
for the interest he seemed to take in his concerns. 

Hamilton was in haste to go home to veui his spleen and 
resentment in a letter to his cousin : the style of this billet 
was very different from those which he formerly was accus- 
tomed to write to her : reproaches, bitter expostulations, 
tenderness, menaces, and all the effusions of a lover, who 
thinks he has reason to complain, composed this epistle ; 
which, for fea,r of accidents, he went to deliver nim,^jelf 

Never did she before appear so lovely, and never did her 
eyes speak so kindly to him as at this moment : his heart 
quite relented; but he was determined not to lose all the 
fine things he had said in his letter. In receiving it, she 
squeezed his hand : this action completely disarmed him, and 
he would have given his life to have had his letter again. 
It appeared to him at this instant, that all the grievances 
he complained of were visionary and groundless : he looked 
upon her husband as a madman and an impostor, and quite 
the reverse of wdiat he supposed him to be a few minutes 
before ; but this remorse came a little too late : he had deli- 
vered his billet; and Lady Chesterfield had shewn such 
impatience and eagerness to read it as soon as she had got 
it, that all circumstances seemed to conspire to justify her. 
and to confound him. She managed to get quit some way or 
other of some troublesome visitors, to slip into her closet ; 
he thought himself so culpable, that he had not the assur- 
ance to wait her return : he w^ithdrew with the rest of the 
company ; but he did not dare to appear before her the next 
day, to have an answer to his letter : however, he met hei 
at court ; and this was the first time, since the commence- 
ment of their amour, that he did not seek for her. He stood 
at a distance, with downcast looks, and appeared in such 
terrible embarrassment, that liis condition was siifncient (;o 

:s 2 



ISO MEMOIRS OF 

raise laiigliter or to cause pity, wlien Lady Chesterfield 
approacliing, thus accosted him : " Confess/' said she, " that 
you are in as foolish a situation as any man of sense can be : 
you wish you had not written to nie : you are desirous of an 
answer : you hope for none : yet, you equally wish for and 
dread it : I have, however, written you one." She had not 
time to say more ; but the few words she had spoken were 
accompanied with such an air, and such a look, as to make 
him believe that it was Yenus with all her Graces who had 
addressed him : he was near her when she sat down to cards, 
and as he <vas puzzling himself to devise by what means he 
should get this answer, she desired him to lay her gloves and 
fan down somewhere : he took them, and with them the 
billet in question, and as he had percei^^d nothing severe or 
angry in the conversation he had with her, he hastened to 
open her letter, and read as follows : 

'' Your transports are so ridiculous, that it is doing you a 
favour to attribute them to an excess of tenderness, which 
turns your head : a man, without doubt, must have a great 
inclination to be jealous, to entertain such an idea of the 
person you mention. Good God ! what a lover to have 
caused uneasiness to a man of genius, and what a genius, to 
have got the better of mine ! Are not you ashamed to give 

'ly credit to the visions of a jealous fellow, who brought 
nothing else with him from Italy? Is it possible, that the , 
story of the green stockings, upon which he has founded h 

iispicions, should have imposed upon you, accompanied as it 
is with such pitiful circumstances ? Since he has made you 
his confidant, why did not he boast of breaking in pieces my 
poor harmless guitar ? This exploit, perhaps, might have I 
convinced you more than all the rest : recollect yourself, anci 
if you are really in love with me, thank fortune for v. 
uToundlei-s jealous^'-, which diverts to another quarter til's 



COl-M' GIIAMMONT. 181 

attention he might pay to my attachment for the most amiahle 
u.nd the most dangerous man of the court/' 

Hamilton was ready to weep for joy at these endearing 
marks of kindness, of which he thought himself so unworthy : 
he was not satisfied with kissing, in raptures, every part of 
this billet ; he also kissed several times her gloves and her 
fan. Play being over. Lady Chesterfield received them from 
his hands, and read in his eyes tbe joy that her billet had 
raised in his heart. Nor was he satisfied with expressing hi? 
raptures only by looks : he hastened home, and writ to her 
at least four times as much. How different was this letter 
from the other ! Though perhaps not so well written ; for 
one does not shew so much wit in suing for pardon as in 
venting reproaches, and it seldom happens that the soft, lan- 
guishing style of a love-letter is so penetrating as that of 
invective. 

Be that as it may, his peace was made : their past quarrel 
gave new life to their correspondence ; and Lady Chester- 
field, to make him as easy as he had before been distrustful, 
expressed on every occasion a feigned contempt for his rival, 
and a sincere aversion for her husband. 

So great was his confidence in her, that he consented she 
should shew in public some marks of attention to the duke, 
in order to conceal as much as possible their private intelli- 
gence. Thus, at this time nothing disturbed his peace of 
mind, but his impatience of finding a favourable opportunity 
for the completion of his desires : he thought it was in her 
power to command it ; but she excused herself on account of 
several difiiculties which she enimierated to him, and which 
she was desirous he should remove by his industry and atten- 
tions. 

This silenced his complaints; but whilst he was endea- 
vouring to surmount these obstacles, still wondering how it 



182 raEMoiiJS of 

svas possible that two persons who were so well disposed to each 
other, and w^ho were agreed to make each other haj3py, could 
not put their designs in execution, accident discovered an 
unexpected adv^enture, which left him no room to doubt, 
either of the happiness of his rival, or of the perfidy of his 
mistress. 

Misfortunes often fall light v/hen most feared ; and fre- 
quently prove heaviest when merited, and when least 
suspected. Hamilton was in the middle of the most tender 
and passionate letter he had ever written to Lady Chester- 
field, when her husband came to announce to him the parti- 
culars of this last discovery : he came so suddenly upon him, 
that he had only just time to conceal his amorous epistle 
among his other papers. His heart and mind were still so 
full of what he was writing to his cousin, that her husband's 
complaints against her, at first, were scarce attended to; 
besides, in his opinion, he had come in the most unfortunate 
moment on all accounts. 

He was, however, obliged to listen to him, and he soon™ 
entertained quite different sentiments : he appeared almost 
petrified with astonishment, while the earl was relating to 
him circumstances of such an extravagant indiscretion, as 
seemed to him quite incredible, notwithstanding the particu- 
lars of the fact. " You have reason to be surprised at it," 
said my lord, concluding his story; '' but if you doubt the 
truth of what I tell you, it will be easy for you to find 
evidence that will convince you ; for the scene of their tender 
familiarities was no less public than the room where the 
queen plays at cards, which, while her majesty was at play, 
was, God knows, pretty well crowded. Lady Denham was 
the first who discovered what they thought would pass 
unperceived in the crowd ; and you Lriy very well judge how 
secret she would keep such a circumstance. The truth is. 



COUNT GIIAMMONT. 183 

slie addressed herself to me first of all, as I entered tlie roonij 
to tell me that I should give my wife a little advice, as other 
people might take notice of what I might see myself, if I 
pleased. 

" Your cousin was at play, as I before told you : the duke 
was sitting next to her : I know not what was become of his 
hand ; but I am sure that no one could see his arm below the 
elbow : I was standing behind them, just in the place that 
Lady Denham had quitted : the duke turning round perceived 
me, and was so much disturbed at my presence, that he almost 
undressed my lady in pulling away his hand. I know not 
whether they perceiv^ed that fl '^y were discovered ; but of this 
I am convinced, that Lady D ji^liam will take care that every 
body shall know it. I must confess to you, that my embar- 
rassment is so great, that I cannot find words to express what 
I now feel : I should not hesitate one moment what course 
to take, if I might be allowed to shew my resentment 
against the person who has wronged me. As for her, I 
could manage her well enough, if, unworthy as she is of any 
consideration, I had not still some regard for an illustrious 
family, that would be distracted were I to resent such an 
injury as it deserves. In this particular you are interested 
yourself: you are my friend, and I make you my confidant 
in an affair of the greatest imaginable delicacy : let us then 
consult together what is proper to be done in so perplexing 
and disagreeable a situation." 

Hamilton, if possible, more astonished, and more con- 
founded than himself, was far from being in a proper state to 
afford him advice on the present occasion : he listened to 
nothing but jealousy, • and breathed nothing but revenge ; but 
these emotions being somewhat abated, in hopes that there 
might be calumny, or at least exaggeration in the charges 
against Lady Chesterfield, he desired her husband to suspend 



7 84 MEriioiRS OF 

Itls resolutions, until he was more fully informed of the fact ; 
assuring liini, however, tliat if he found the circumstances 
such as he had related, he should regard and consult no other 
interest than his. 

Upon this they parted ; and Hamilton found, on the first 
inquiry, that almost the whole court was informed of the 
adventure, to which every one added something in relating it. 
Vexation and resentment inflamed his heart, and by degrees 
extinguished every remnant of his former passion. 

He might easily have seen her, and have made her sucli 
reproaches as a man is generally inclined to do on such occa- 
sions ; but he was too much enraged to enter into any detail 
which might have led to an explanation : he considered him- 
self as the only person essentially injured in this affair; for he 
could never bring his mind to think that the injuries of the 
husband could be placed in competition with those of the 
lover. 

He hastened to Lord Chesterfield, in the transport of his 
passion, and told him that he had heard enough to induce him to 
give such advice, as he should follow himself in the same situa- 
tion, and that, if he wished to save a woman so strongly prepos- 
sessed, and who, perhaps, had not yet lost all her innocence, 
though she had totally lost her reason, he ought not to delay 
one single instant, but immediately to carry her into the 
country, with the greatest possible expedition, without allow- 
ing her the least time to recover her surprise. 

Lord Chesterfield readily agreed to follow this advice, which 
he had already considered as the only counsel a friend could 
give him ; but his lady, who did not suspect he had made this 
ast discovery of her conduct, thought he* was joking with her 
when he told her to j^repare for going into the country in two 
days : she was the more induced to think so, as it was in the 
very middle of an extremely severe winter; but she soon 



COUNT GRxVMMONT. 185 

perceived that lie was in earnest : she knew, from tlic air and 
manner of her husband, that he thought he had sufficient rea- 
son to treat her in this imperious style ; and, finding all her 
relations serious and cold to her complaint, she had no liope 
left in this universally abandoned situation, but in the tender- 
ness of Hamilton. She imagined she should hear from him 
the cause of her misfortunes, of which she was still totally 
ignorant, and that his love would invent some means or other 
to prevent a journey, which she flattered herself would be even 
more affecting to him than to herself; but she was e?cpecting 
pity from a crocodile. 

At last, when she saw the eve of her departure was 
come ; that every preparation was made for a long journey ; 
that she was receiving farewell visits in form, and that still 
she heard nothing from Hamilton, both her hopes and her pa- 
tience forsook her in this wretched situation. A few tears, 
perhaps, might have afforded her some relief, but she chose 
rather to deny herself that comfort, than to give her husband 
so much satisfaction. Hamilton's conduct, on this occasion, 
appeared to her unaccountable ; and, as he still never came 
near her, she found means to convey to him the following 
billet. 

" Is it possible that you should be one of those, who, with- 
out vouchsafing to tell me for what crime I am treated like a 
slave, suffer me to be dragged from society ? What means 
your silence and indolence, in a juncture wherein your tender- 
ness ought most particularly to appear, and actively exert 
itself? I am upon the point of departing, and am ashamed 
to think that you are the cause of my looking upon it w^ith 
horror, as I have reason to believe that you are less concerned 
at it than, any other person : do, at least, let me know to what 
place I am to be dragged ; what is to be done with me within 
a wilderness ; and on wdiat account you, like all the rest of the 



MI- MO IRS or 



world, appear changed in your behaviour towards a person, 
whom all the world could not oblige to change with regard to 
you, if your weakness or your ingratitude did not render you 
unworthy of her tenderness." 

This billet did but harden his heart, and make him more 
proud of his vengeance : he swallowed down full draughts of 
pleasure, in beholding her reduced to despair, being persuaded 
that her grief and regret for her departure were on account 
of another person : he felt uncomn'ion satisfaction in having a 
share in tormenting her, and was particularly pleased with the 
scheme he had contrived to separate her from a rival, upon 
the very point, perhaps, of being made happy Thus fortified 
as he was against his natural tenderness, with all the severity 
of jealous resentment, he saw her depart with an indifference 
which he did not even endeavour to conceal from her; this 
unexpected treatment, joined to the complication of her other 
misfortunes, had almost in reality plunged her into despair. 

The court was filled with the story of this adventure ; no- 
body was ignorant of the occasion of this sudden departure, 
but very few approved of Lord Chesterfield's conduct. In 
England they looked with astonishment upon a man who could 
be so uncivil as to be jealous of his wife ; and in the city of 
London it was a prodigy, till that time unknown, to see a 
husband have recourse to violent means to prevent what 
jealousy fears, and what it always deserves. They endea- 
voured, however, to excuse poor Lord Chesterfield, as far as 
they could safely do it, without incurring the public odium, 
by laying all the blame on his bad education. This made all 
the mothers vow to God, that none of their sons should ever 
tiet a foot in Italy, lest they should bring back with them that 
infamous custom of laying restraint upon their wives. 

As this story for a long time took up the attention of the 
court, the Chevalier de Grammont, who was n )t thoroughly 



COUNT GRAMMONr. 187 

acquainted with all tlie particulars, mveighed more bitterly 
tlian all the citizens of London put together against this ty- 
ranny ; and it was upon this occasion that he produced new 
words to that fatal saraband v/hich had unfortunately so great 
a share in the adventure. The Chevalier passed for tbe 
author; but if Saint Evremond had any part in the conriposi 
tion, it certainly was greatly inferior to his other perform- 
ances, as the reader will see in the following chapter. 



188 MEMOIRS or 



CHAPTER IX. 

EvEUY man who believes that his honour depends upon 
that of his wife is a fool, who torments himself, and driyes 
her to despair ; but he who, being naturally jealous, has the 
additional misfortune of loving his wife, and who expects that 
she should only live for him, is a perfect madman, whom tiio 
torments of hell have actually taken hold of in this world, and 
whom nobody pities. All reasoning and observation on these 
unfortunate circumstances attending wedlock concur in this, 
that precaution is vain and useless before the evil, and revenge 
odious afterwards. 

The Spaniards, who tyrannize over their wives, more by 
custom than from jealousy, content themselves with preserv- 
ing the niceness of their honour by duennas, grates, and locks. 
The Italians, who are wary in their suspicions, and vindictive 
in their resentments, pursue a different line of conduct ; some 
satisfy themselves with keeping their wives under locks which 
they think secure ; others by ingenious precautions exceed 
whatever the Spaniards can invent for confining the fair sex ; 
but the generality are of opinion, that in either unavoidable 
danger, or in manifest transgression, the surest way is to 
assassinate. 

But, ye courteous and indulgent nations, who, far fromf 
admitting these savage and barbarous c-ustoms, give full libertyl 
to your dear ribs, and commit the care of their virtue to theirl 
own discretion, you pass without alarms or strife your peace- 
ful days, in all the enjoyments of domestic indolence ! 

It was certainly some evil genius that induced Lord Ches-j 



COUNT or. AM MO XT. 189 

terfield to diytinguisli himself from his patient and good-na- 
tured countrymen, and ridiculously to afford the world an 
opportunity of examining into the j^articulars of an adventure, 
which would perhaps never have been known without the 
verge of the court, and which would everywhere have been 
forgotten in less than a month ; but now, as soon as ever he had 
turned his back, in order to march away with his prisoner, and 
the ornaments she was supposed to have bestowed upon him, 
God only knov»^s what a terrible attack there was made upon 
his rear. Rochester^ ^^^ Middlesex,^^^ Sydley,^^^ Etheredge,-'^ 
and all the whole band of wits, exposed him in numberless 
ballads, and diverted the public at his expense. 

The Chevalier de Grammont was highly pleased with these 
lively and humorous compositions ; and wherever this subject 
was mentioned, never failed to produce his supplement upon 
the occasion : " It is strange," said he, " that the country, 
which is little better than a gallows or a grave for young peo- 
ple, is allotted in this land only for the unfortunate, and not 
for the guilty ! Poor Lady Chesterfield, for some unguarded 
looks, is immediately seized upon by an angry husband, who 
will oblige her to spend her Christmas at a country-house, a 
hundred and fifty miles from London ; while here, there are 
a thousand ladies who are left at liberty to do whatever they 
please, and v/ho indulge in that liberty, and whose conduct, in 
short, deserves a daily bastinado. I name no person, God 
forbid I should; but Lady Middleton, Lady Denham, the 
queen's and the duchess's maids of honour, and a hundred 
others, bestow their favours to the right and to the left, and 
not the least notice is taken of their conduct. As for Lady 
Shrewsbury, she is conspicuous. I would take a wager she 
might have a man killed for her every day, and she would 
only hold her head the higher for it : one would suppose she 
imported from Rome plenary indulgences for her conduct 7 



190 MEMOIRS OF 

there are three or four gentlemen who wear an ounce of her 
hair made into bracelets, and no person finds any fault ; and 
yet shall such a cross-grained fool as Chesterfield be permitted 
to exercise an act of tyranny, altogether unknown in this 
country, upon the prettiest woman in England, and all for a 
mere trifle : but I am his humble servant ; his precautions 
will avail him nothing ; on the contrary, very often a woman, 
who had no bad intentions when she was suffered to remain in 
tranquillity, is prompted to such conduct by revenge, or re- 
duced to it by necessity : this is as true as the gospel : hear 
now what Francisco's saraband says on the subject : 

** Tell me, jealous-pated swain, 

What avail thy idle arts, 

To divide united hearts ? 

Love, like the wind, I trow, 

Will, where it listeth, blow ; 
So, prithee, peace, for all thy cares are vain. 

^* When you are by, 
Nor wishful look, be sure, nor eloquent sigh, 
Shall dare those inward fires discover, 
Which burn in either lover : 
Yet Argus' self, if Argus were thy spy, 

Should ne'er, with all his mob of eyes, 
Surprise. 

*' Some joys forbidden. 
Transports hidden. 
Which lovre, through dark and secret ways. 
Mysterious love, to kindred souls conveys.*' 

The Chevalier de Grammont passed for the author of this 
sonnet: neither the justness of the sentiment, nor turn of it,| 
are surprisingly beautiful; but as it contained some truths 
that flattered the genius of the nation, and pleased those who I 
interested themselves for the fair sex, the ladies were ail| 
desirous of having it to teach their children. 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 191 

During all this time, the Duke of York, not being in the 
way of seeing Lady Chesterfield, easily forgot her : her 
absence, however, had some circumstances attending it, which 
could not but sensibly affect the person who had occasioned 
her confinement; but there are certain fortunate tempers to 
which every situation is easy; they feel neither disappoint- 
ment with bitterness, nor pleasure with acuteness. In the 
mean time, as the duke could not remain idle, he had no sooner 
forgotten Lady Chesterfield, but he bogan to think of her 
whom he had been in love with before, and was upon the point 
of relapsing into his old passion for Miss Hamilton. 

There was in London a celebrated portrait painter, called 
Lely,^^^ who had greatly improved himself by studying the 
famous Vandyke's pictures, which were dispersed all over 
England in abundance. Lely imitated Yandyke's manner, 
and approached the nearest to him of all the moderns. The 
Duchess of York being desirous of Laving the portraits of the 
handsomest persons at court, Lely painted them, and employed 
all his skill in the performance ; nor could he ever exert him- 
self upon more beautiful subjects. Every picture appeared a 
master-piece ; and that of Miss Hamilton appeared the highest 
finished : Lely himself acknowledged that he had drawn it 
with a particular pleasure. The Duke of York took a delight 
in looking at it, and began again to ogle the original : he had 
very little reason to hope for success ; and at the same time 
that his hopeless passion alarmed the Chevalier de Grammont, 
Lady Denham thought proper to renew the negotiation which 
had so unluckily been interrupted : it was soon brought to a 
conclusion ; for where both parties are sincere in a negotiation, 
no time is lost in cavilling. Every thing succeeded prosper- 
ously on one side ; yet, I know not what fatality obstructed 
the pretensions of the other. The duke was very urgent with 
the duchess to put Lady Denham in possession of the place 



102 MI-MOIKS OF 

which was the object of her ambition ; Ijut, as she was not gua- 
rantee for the performance of the secret articles of the treaty, 
though till this time she had borne with patience the incon- 
stancy of the duke, and yielded submissively to his desires, yet, 
in the present instance, it appeared hard and dishonourable to 
her, to entertain near her person a rival, who would expose 
her to the danger of acting but a second part in the midst of 
her own court. However, she saw herself upon the point of 
being forced to it by authority, when a far more unfortunate 
obstacle for ever bereft poor Lady Denham of the hopes of 
possessing that fatal place, which she had solicited with such 
eagerness. 

Old Denham, naturally jealous, became more and more sus- 
picious, and found that he had sufficient ground for such con- 
duct : his wife was young and handsome, he old and disagree- 
able : what reason, then, had he to flatter himself that heaven 
would exempt him from the fate of husbands in the like circum- 
stances? This he was continually saying to himself; but, when 
compliments were poured in upon him from all sides, upon the 
j)lace his lady was going to have near the duchess's person, he 
formed ideas of what was sufficient to have made him hang 
himself, if he had possessed the resolution. The traitor chose 
rather to exercise his courage against another. He wanted 
precedents for putting in practice his resentments in a pri- 
vileged country : that of Lord Chesterfield was not sufficiently 
bitter for the revenge he meditated : besides, he had no 
country-house to which he could carry his unfortunate wife. 
This being the case, the old villain made her travel a much 
longer journey without stirring out of London. Merciless 
fate robbed her of life, and of her dearest hopes, in the bloom 
of youth. 11^ 

As no person entertained any doubt of his having poisoned 
her, the populace of his neighbourhood had a design of tear- 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 193 

r)'.'^ him in pieces, as soon as lie ."-liould come abroad ; but he 
shut himself up to bewail her death, until their fury was 
ap23eased by a magnificent funeral, at which he distributed 
four times more burnt wine than had ever been drunk at any 
burial in England. 

While the town was in fear of some great disaster, as an 
expiation for these fatal effects of jealousy, Hamilton was not 
altogether so easy as he flattered himself he should be after 
the departure of Lady Chesterfield : he had only consulted 
the dictates of revenge in what he had done : his vengeance 
was satisfied ; but such was far from being the case with his 
love ; and having, since the absence of her he still admired, 
notwithstanding his resentments, leisure to make those reflec- 
tions which a recent injury will not permit a man to attend 
to : " and wherefore,'* said he to himself, " was I so eager to 
niake her miserable, who alone, however culpable she may be, 
has it in her power to make me happy ? Cursed jealousy ^ " 
continued he, '' yet more cruel to those who torment, than to 
those who are tormented ! What have I gained, by having 
blasted the hopes of a more happy rival, since I was not able 
to perform this without depriving myself, at the same time, of 
her, upon whom the whole happiness and comfort of my life 
v»'as centred." 

Thus, clearly proving to himself, by a great many reason- 
ings of the same kind, and all out of season, that in such an 
engagement it was much better to partake with another than to 
liave nothing at all, he filled his mind with a number of vain 
regrets and unprofitable remorse, when he received a letter 
from her who occasioned them, but a letter so exactly adapted 
to increase them, that, after he had read it, he looked upon 
himself as the greatest scoundrel in the world. Here it 
follows : — 
^ "'You will, no doubt « be as much surprised at this letter, 



194 MEMOIRS OF 

as I was at tlie unconcerned air with which you beheld 
my departure. I am led to believe, that you had imagined 
reasons, which, in your own mind, justified such unseasonable 
conduct. If you are still under the impression of such bar- 
barous sentiments, it will afi'ord you pleasure to be made 
acquainted with what I suffer in the most horrible of prisons. 
Whatever the country affords most melancholy, in this season^ 
presents itself to my view on all sides : surrounded by 
impassable roads, out of one window I see nothing but rocks, 
out of another nothing but precipices ; but wherever I turn 
my eyes within doors, I meet those of a jealous husband, 
still more insupportable than the sad objects that encompass 
me. I should add, to the misfortunes of my life, that of 
seeming criminal in the eyes of a man who ought to have 
justified me, even against convincing appearances, if by my 
avowed innocence I had a right to complain or to expostulate : 
but how is it possible for me to justify myself at such a 
distance ; and how can I flatter myself, that the description 
of a most dreadful prison will not prevent you from believing 
me? But do you deserve that I should wish you did? 
Heavens ! how I must hate you, if I did not love you to 
distraction. Come, therefore, and let me once again see you, 
that you may hear my justification ; and I am convinced, 
that if after this visit you find me guilty, it will not be with 
respect to yourself. Our Argus sets out to-morrow for 
Chester, where a lawsuit will detain him a week : I know 
not whether he will gain it ; but I am sure it will be entirely 
your fault, if he does not lose one, for which he is at least as 
anxious as that he is now going after.*' 

Tin's letter was sufficient to make a man run blindfold into 
an adventiire still more rash than that which was proposed 
to him, and that was rash enough in all respects : he could 
not perceive by what means she could justify herself; bur as 



COUNT GRAMMOXT. 195 

siie assured him he should be satisfied with his journey, this 
was all he desired at present. 

There was one of his relations with Lady Chesterfield, 
who, having accompanied her in her exile, had gained some 
share in their mutual confidence ; and it was through her 
means he received this letter, with all the necessary instruc- 
tions about his journey and his arrival. Secrecy being the 
soul of such expeditions, especially before an amour is accom- 
plished, he took post, and set out in the night, animated by 
the most tender and flattering wishes, so that, in less than no 
time, almost, in comparison with the distance and the badness 
of the roads, he had travelled a hundred and fifty tedious • 
miles : at the last stage he prudently dismissed the post-boy. 
It was not yet daylight, and therefore, for fear of the rocks 
and precipices mentioned in her letter, he proceeded with 
tolerable discretion, considering he was in love. 
, By this means, he fortunately escaped all the dangerous 
places, and, according to his instructions, alighted at a little 
hut adjoining to the park-wall. The place was not mag- 
nificent : but, as he only wanted rest, it did well enough for 
that : he did not wish for daylight, and was even still less 
desirous of being seen ; wherefore, having shut himself up 
in this obscure retreat, he fell into a profound sleep, and did 
not wake until noon. As he was particularly hungry when 
he awoke, he ate and drank heartily ; and, as he was the 
neatest man at court, and was expected by the neatest lady 
in England, he spent the remainder of the day in dressing 
himself, and in making all those preparations which the time 
and place permitted, without deigning once to look around 
him, or to ask his landlord a single question. At last, the 
orders he expected with great impatience were brought him, 
in the beginning of the evening, by a servant, who, attending 
him as a guide, after having led him for about half an hour 

o 2 



3 06 MEMO 1 1 J. S OF 

in the dirt, through a 2)ark of vast extent, brought him at 
last into a garden, into which a little door opened : he was 
posted, exactly opposite to this door, by which, in a short 
time, he was to be introduced to a more ao^reeable situation : 
and here his conductor left him. The night advanced, but 
the door never opened. 

Though the w^inter was almost over, the cold weather 
seemed only to be beginning : he was dirtied up to his knees 
in mud, and soon perceived, that if he continued much longer 
in this garden, it would all be frozen. This beginning of a 
A'ery dark and bitter night would have been unbearable to 
any other ; but it was nothing to a man who flattered him- 
self to pass the remainder of it in the height of bliss : how- 
ever, he began to wonder at so many precautions in the 
absence of a husband : his imagination, by a thousand deli- 
cious and tender ideas, supported him some time against the 
torments of impatience and the inclemency of the weather ; 
but he felt his imagination, notwithstanding, cooling b}^ 
degrees ; and two hours, w^hich seemed to him as tedious as 
two whole ages, having passed, and not the least notice being 
taken of him, either from the door or from the window, he began 
to reason with himself upon the posture of his affairs, and what 
was the fittest conduct for him to pursue in this emergency : 
" What if I should rap at this cursed door," said he ; " for if 
my fate requires that I should perish, it is at least more 
honourable to die in the house, than to be starved to death in 
the garden ; but, then,** continued he, " I may thereby, per- 
haps, expose a person whom some unforeseen accident may, 
at this very instant, have reduced to greater j^erplexity than 
even I myself am in." This thought supplied him with a 
necessary degree of patience and fortitude against the 
enemies he had to contend with ; he therefore began to walk 
quickly to and fro, with the resolution to wait, as long as he 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 19? 

could keep alive, the end of an adventure, which had such 
an uncomfortable beginning. All this was to no purpose ; 
for though he used every effort to keep himself warm, and 
tiiough muffled up in a thick cloak, yet he began to be 
benumbed in all his limbs, and the cold gained the ascen- 
(kncy over all his amorous vivacity and eagerness. Day- 
break was not far off, and judging now, that though the 
accursed door should even be opened, it would be to no 
jnirpose, he returned, as well he could, to the place from 
whence he had set out upon this wonderful expedition. 

All the faggots that were in the cottage were hardly able 
to unfreeze him : the more he reflected on his adventure, the 
circumstances attending it appeared still the more strange and 
unaccountable ; but so far from accusing the charming coun- 
tess, he suffered a thousand different anxieties on her account : 
sometimes he imagined that her husband might have returned 
unexpectedly ; sometimes, that she might suddenly have been 
taken ill ; in short, that some insuperable obstacle had un- 
luckily interposed, and prevented his happiness, notwith- 
standing his mistress's kind intentions towards him. " But 
v/herefore," said he, " did she forget me in that cursed garden ? 
Is it possible that she could not find a single moment to make 
me at least some sign or other, if she could neither speak to 
nie, nor give me admittance ? " He knew not which of these 
conjectures to rely upon, or how to answer his own questions; 
but as he flattered himself that every thing would succeed 
better the next night, after having vowed not to set a foot 
again into that unfortunate garden, he gave orders to be 
waked as soon as any person should inquire for him : then he 
laid himself down in one of the worst beds in the world, and 
slept as sound as if he had been in the best : he supposed that 
he should not be awakened, but either by a letter or a messago 
from Lady Chesterfield ; but he had scarce slept two hours* 



193 MEMOIRS OF 

vrlien he was roused by the sound of the horn and the cry of 
the hounds. The hut, which afforded him a retreat, joining, 
as we before said, to the park-wall, he called his host, to 
know what was the occasion of that hunting, which made a 
noise, as if the whole pack of hounds had been in his bed- 
chamber. He was told, that it was my lord, hunting a hare 
in his park. " "What lord ? " said he, in great surprise. " The 
Earl of Chesterfield," replied the peasant. He was so asto- 
nished at this, that at first he hid his head under the bed- 
clothes, under the idea that he already saw him entering with 
all his hounds ; but as soon as he had a little recovered him- 
self, he began to curse capricious fortune, no longer doubting 
but this jealous fool's return had occasioned all his tribulations 
ia the preceding night. 

It was not possible for him to sleep again, after such an 
alarm ; he therefore got up, that he might revolve in his mind 
all the stratagems that are usually employed, either to de- 
ceive, or to remove out of the way a jealous scoundrel of a 
husband, who thought fit to neglect his lawsuit, in order to 
plague his wife. He had just finished dressing himself, and 
was beginning to question his landlord, when the same ser- 
vant, who had conducted him to the garden, delivered him a 
letter, and disappeared, without waiting for an answer. ' This 
letter was from his relation, and was to this efiect : — 

" I am extremely sorry that I have innocently been acces- 
sary to bringing you to a place, to which you were only in- 
vited to be laughed at: I opposed this journey at first, 
though I was then persuaded it was wholly suggested by her 
tenderness ; but she has now undeceived me : she triumphs in 
the trick she has played you : her husband has not stirred 
from hence, but stays at home, out of complaisance to her : 
he treats her in the most affectionate manner ; and it was upon 
tlieir reconciliation, that she found out that you had advised 



COUNT GKAMMONT. 199 

him to carry her into the country. She has conceived such 
hatred and aversion against you for it, that I find, from her 
discourse, she has not yet wholly satisfied her resentment. 
Console yourself for the hatred of a person, whose heart never 
merited your tenderness. Return : a longer stay in this place 
will but draw upon you some fresh misfortune : for my part, 
I shall soon leave her : I know her, and I thank God for it : 
I do not repent having pitied her at first ; but I am disgusted 
vv ith an employment which but ill agrees with my way of 
thinking.' 

Upon reading this letter, astonishment, shame, hatred, and 
rage seized at once upon his heart : then menaces, invectives, 
and the desire of vengeance, broke forth by turns, and excited 
his passion and resentment ; but, after he deliberately con- 
sidered the matter, he resolved that it was now the best way 
quietly to mount his horse, and to carry back with him to 
London a severe cold, instead of the soft wishes and tender 
desires he had brought from thence. He quitted this per- 
fidious place with much greater expedition than he had arrived 
at it, though his mind was far from being occupied with such 
tender and agreeable ideas : however, when he thought him- 
self at a sufficient distance to be out of danger of meeting 
Lord Chesterfield and his hounds, he chose to look back, that he 
might at least have the satisfaction of seeing the prison where 
this wicked enchantress was confined; but what was his sur- 
prise, when he saw a very fine house, situated on the banks of a 
river, in the most delightful and pleasant country imagin- 
able.^ ^^ Neither rock, nor precipice, was here to be seen; for, 
in reality, they were only in the letter of his perfidious mistress. 
This furnished fresh cause for resentment and confusion to a 
man who thought himself so well acquainted with all the 
wileS; as well as weaknesses, of the fair sex ; and who now 



200 MLMOlitS OF 

found himself the dupe of a coquette, who was reconciled to 
her husband in order to be revenged on her lover. 

At last he reached London, well furnished with arguments 
to maintain, that a man must be extremely weak to trust to 
the tenderness of a woman who has once deceived him; but 
that he must be a complete fool to run after her. 

This adventure not being much to his credit, he suppressed, 
as much as possible, both the journey, and the circumstances 
attending it ; but, as we may easily suppose Lady Chesterfield 
made no secret of it, the king came to the knowledge of it ; 
and, having complimented Hamilton upon it, desired to be 
informed of all the particulars of the expedition. The Che- 
valier de Grammont happened to be present at this recital ; 
and, having gently inveighed against the treacherous manner 
in which he had been used, said : " If she is to be blamed for 
carrying the jest so far, you are no less to be blamed for com- 
ing back so suddenly, like an ignorant novice : I dare lay a 
hundred guineas, she has more than once repented of a resent- 
ment which you pretty well deserved for the trick you had 
played her : women love revenge ; but their resentments sel- 
dom last long ; and, if you had remained in the neighbour- 
hood till the next day, I will be hanged if she would not have 
given you satisfaction for the first night's sufferings." Hamil- 
ton being of a different opinion, the Chevalier de Grammont 
resolved to maintain his assertion by a case in point ; and, 
addressing himself to the king : " Sir," said he, " your majesty, 
I suppose, must have known Marion de TOrme,^^^ the most 
charming creature in all France : though she was as witty as 
an angel, she was as capricious as a devil. This beauty hav- 
ing made me an appointment, a whim seized her to put me off, 
and to give ic to another ; she therefore writ me one of the 
te.idorest billets in tlic world, full of the Sfrief and sorrow she 



s COUNT GIIAMMONT. 201 

was ill, by being obliged to disappoint me, on account of a 
most terrible headache, that obliged her to keep her bed, and 
deprived her of the pleasure of seeing me till the next day. 
This headache coming all of a sudden, appeared to me very 
suspicious; and, never doubting but it was her intention to 
jilt me : very well, mistress coquette, said I to myself, if you do 
not enjoy the pleasure of seeing me this day, you shall not 
enjoy the satisfaction of seeing another. 

'' Hereupon, I detached all my servants, some of whom 
patrolled about her house, whilst others watched her door : 
one of the latter brought me intelligence, that no person had 
gone into her house all the afternoon ; but that a foot-boy 
had gone out as it grew dark ; that he followed him as far as 
the Rue Saint Antoine, where this boy met another, to whom 
he only spoke two or three words. This was sufficient to 
confirm my suspicions, and make me resolve either to make 
one of the party, or to disconcert it. 

'' As the bagnio where I lodged was at a great distance 
from the Marais, as soon as the night set in I mounted my 
horse, without any attendant. When I came to the Place- 
Royale, the servant, who was sentry there, assured me that 
no person was yet gone into Mademoiselle de TOrme's house : 
I rode forward towards the Rue Saint Antoine ; and just as 
I was going out of the Place-Royale, I saw a man on foot 
coming into it, who avoided me as much as he possibly could ; 
but his endeavour was all to no purpose ; I knew him to be 
the Duke de Brissac, and I no longer doubted but he was my 
rival that night : I then approached towards him, seeming as 
if I feared I mistook my man ; and alighting with a very 
busy air : ' Brissac, my friend,' said I, ' you must do me a 
service of the very greatest importance : I have an appoint- 
mentj for the first time, with a girl who lives very near this 
|)iace ; and. as this visit is only to concert measures, I shall 



202 MEMOIRS or 

make but a very short stay : be so kind, therefore, as to lend 
me your cloak, and walk my horse about a little, until 1 
return ; but, above all, do not go far from this place : you 
see that I use you freely like a friend ; but you know, it is 
upon condition that you may take the same liberty with mo. 
I took his cloak without waiting for his answer, and he took 
my horse by the bridle, and followed me with his eye ; but 
he gained no intelligence by this ; for, after having pretended to 
go into a house opposite to him, I slipped under the piazzas to 
Mademoiselle de TOrme's, where the door was opened as soon 
as I knocked. I was so much muffled up in Brissac's cloak, 
that I was taken for him : the door was immediately shut, 
not the least question asked me ; and, having none to ask 
myself, I went straight to the lady's chamber. I found her 
upon a couch in the most agreeable and genteelest dishabille 
imaginable : she never in her life looked so handsome, nor 
was so greatly surprised ; and, seeing her speechless and con- 
founded : ' What is the matter, my fair one V said I, ' me- 
thinks this is a headache very elegantly set off; but your 
headache, to all appearance, is now gone?' 'Not in the 
least,' said she, ' I can scarce support it, and you will oblige 
me in going away, that I may go to bed.' ' As for your going 
to bed, to that I have not the least objection,' said I ; ' but 
as for my going away, that cannot be, my little princess the 
Chevalier de Grammont is no fool ; a woman does not dress 
herself with so much care for nothing.' ' You will find, 
however,* said she, ' that it is for nothing ; for you may 
depend upon it that you shall be no gainef by it.' ' What !' 
said I, ' after having made me an appointment ! * ' Well,' re- 
plied she hastily, ' though I had made you fifty, it still depends 
upon me, whether I choose to keep them, or not, and you 
must submit if I do not.' ' This might do very well,' said T, 
' if it was not to giv^e it to another.' Mademoiselle de TOrme^ 



COUNT GRA3I3IOXT. 203 

as haughty as a woman of the greatest virtue, and as pas- 
sionate as one who has the least, was irritated at a suspi- 
cion, which gave her more concern than confusion ; and 
seeing that she was beginning to put herself in a passion : 
' Madam,' said I, ' pray do not talk in so high a strain ; I 
know what perplexes you : you are afraid lest Brissac should 
meet me here ; but you may make yourself easy on that 
account : I met him not far from this place, and God knows 
that I have so managed the affair as to prevent his visiting 
you soon/ Having spoken these words in a tone somewhat 
tragical, she appeared concerned at first, and, looking upon 
me with surprise : ' What do you mean, about the Duke de 
Brissac ? * said she. ' I mean,' replied I, ' that he is at the 
end of the street, walking my horse about ; but, if you will 
not believe me, send one of your own servants thither, or 
look at his cloak, which I left in your antechamber.' Upon 
this, she burst into a fit of laughter, in the midst of her 
astonishment, and, throwing her arms around my neck : ' My 
dear Chevalier,' said she, ' I can hold out no longer ; you 
are too amiable and too eccentric not to be pardoned.' I then 
told her the whole story : she was ready to die with laughing ; 
and, parting very good friends, she assured me, my rival 
might exercise horses as long as he pleased, but that he should 
not set his foot within her doors that night. 

" I found the duke exactly in the place where I had left 
him : I asked him a thousand pardons for having made him 
wait so long, and thanked him a thousand times for his com- 
plaisance. He told me, I jested; that such compliments 
were unusual among friends; and, to convince me that he 
had cordially rendered me this piece of service, he would, by 
all means, hold my horse while I was mounting. I returned 
him his cloak, bid him good night, and went back to ray 
lodgings, e(]ually satisfied with my mistress and my rival. 



204 IMEMOIRS OF 

This," continued lie, "• proves that a little patience and 
address is suiTicient to disarm the anger of the fair, to turn 
even their tricks to a man's advantage." 

It was in vain that the Chevalier de Grammont diverted 
the court with his stories, instructed by liis example, and 
never appeared there but to inspire universal joy ; for a long 
time he was the only foreigner in fashion. Fortune, jealous 
of the justice which is done to merit, and desirous of seeing 
all human happiness depend on her caprice, raised up 
iigainst him two competitors for the pleasure he had long 
enjoyed of entertaining the English court ; and these competi- 
tors were so much the more dangerous, as the reputation of 
their several merits had preceded their arrival, in order to 
dispose the suffrages of the court in their favour. 

They came to display, in their own persons, whatever was 
the most accomplished either among the men of the sword, 
or of the gown. The one was the Marquis de Flamarens,^^-^ 
the sad object of the sad elegies of the Countess de la 
Suse : ^^^ the other was the president Tambonneau,^^* the 
most humble and most obedient servant and admirer of the 
Ireauteous Luynes. As they arrived together, they exerted 
every endeavour to shine in concert : their talents were as 
<iifferent as their persons : Tarabonneau, who was tolerably 
ugly, founded his hopes upon a great store of wit, which, 
however, no person in England could find out; and 
Flamarens, by his air and mien, courted admiration, which 
was flatly denied him. 

They had agreed mutually to assist eacli other in order to 
succeed in their intentions ; and, therefore, in their first 
visits, the one appeared in state, and the other was the 
spokesman. But they found the ladies in England of a far 
diflcrcnt taste from those who had rendered them famous in 
France : t)ie rhetoric of the one had no effect on the fair sex. 



CGtJiNT grammo:nt. 205 

and the fine mien of the other distinguished him only in a minuet, 
which he first introduced into England, and which he danced 
with tolerable success. The English court had been too long 
accustomed to the solid wit of Saint Evremond, and tiie 
natural and singular charms of his hero, to be seduced bv 
appearances : however, as the English have, in general, a sort 
of predilection in favour of any thing that has the appearance 
of bravery, Flamarens was better received on account of a 
duel, which, obliging him to leave his own country, was a 
recommendation to him in England. 

Miss Hamilton had, at first, the honour of being distin- 
guished by Tambonneau, who thought she possessed a suffi- 
cient share of wit to discover the delicacy of his ; and being 
delighted to find that nothing was lost in her conversation, 
either as to the turn, the expression, or beauty of the thought, 
he frequently did her the favour to converse with her ; and, 
perhaps, he would never have found out that he was tiresome, 
if, contenting himself with the display of his eloquence, he 
had not thought proper to attack her heart. This was carry- 
ing the matter a little too far for Miss Hamilton's complai- 
sance, who was of opinion that she had already shewn him 
too much for the tropes of his harangues : he was, therefore, 
desired to try somewhere else the experiment of his seducing 
tongue, and not to lose the merit of his former constancy by 
an infidelity which would be of no advantage to him. 

He followed this advice like a wise and tractable man ; 
and some time after, returning to his old mistress in France, 
he began to lay in a store of politics for those important nego- 
tiations in which he has since been employed. 

It was not till after his departure that the Chevalier de 
Grammont heard of the amorous declaration he had made : . 
this was a confidence of no great importance ; it, however, 
saved Tombonneau from some ridicule which might have 



206 MEMOIRS OP 

fallen to his share before he went away. His colleague, 
Flamarens, deprived of his support, soon perceived that he 
was not likely to meet in England with the success he had 
expected, both from love and fortune : but Lord Falmouth, 
ever attentive to the glory of his master, in the relief of 
illustrious men in distress, provided for his subsistence, and 
Lady Southesk for his pleasures : he obtained a pension from 
the king, and from her every thing he desired ; and most 
happy was it for him that she had no other present to bestoiiv 
but that of her heart. 

It was at this time that Talbot, ^20 whom w^e have before 
mentioned, and who was afterwards created Duke of Tyr- 
connel, fell in love with Miss Hamilton. There was not a more 
genteel man at court : he was indeed but a younger brother, 
though of a very ancient family, which, however, w^as not 
very considerable either for its renown or its riches; and 
though he was naturally of a careless disposition, yet, being 
intent upon making his fortune, and much in favour with the 
Duke of York, and fortune likewise favouring him at play, 
he had improved both so w^ell, that he was in possession of 
about forty thousand pounds a year in land. He offered 
himself to Miss Hamilton, with this fortune, together with 
the almost certain hopes of being made a peer of the realm, 
by his master s credit : and, over and above all, as many 
sacrifices as she could desire of Lady Shrewsbury's letters, 
pictures, and hair; curiosities which, indeed, are reckoned 
for nothing in housekeeping, but w^hich testify strongly in 
favour of the sincerity and merit of a lover. 

Such a rival was not to be despised ; and the Chevalier de 
Grammont thought him the more dangerous, as he perceived 
that Talbot was desperately in love ; that he was not a man 
to be discouraged by a first repulse ; that he had too much 
sense and good breeding to draw upon himself either con- 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 207 

tempt or coldness by too great eagerness ; and, besides this, 
his brothers began to frequent the house. One of these 
brothers was almoner to the queen, ^21 ^n intriguing Jesuit, 
and a great match-maker : the other was, what was called, 
a lay-monk,^22 ^yj^o j^^^d nothing of his order but the immo- 
rality and infamy of character which is ascribed to them ; 
and withal, frank and free, and sometimes entertaining, but 
ever ready to speak bold and offensive truths, and to do good 
offices. 

Yf hen the Chevalier de Grammont reflected upon all these 
things, there certainly was strong ground for uneasiness : nor 
was the indifference which Miss Hamilton shewed for the 
addresses of his rival sufficient to remove his fears ; for being 
absolutely dependent on her father's will, she could only an- 
swer for her own intentions : but Fortune, who seemed to have 
taken him under her protection in England, now delivered 
him from all his uneasiness. 

Talbot had for many years stood forward as the patron of 
the distressed Irish: this zeal for his countrymen was cer- 
tainly very commendable in itself ; at the same time, however, 
it was not altogether free from self-interest : for, out of all 
the estates he had, through his credit, procured the restoration 
of to their primitive owners, he had always obtained some 
small compensation for himself ; but, as each owner found his 
advantage in it, no complaint was made. Nevertheless, as it 
is very difficult to use fortune and favour with moderation, 
and not to swell with the gales of prosperity, some of his pro- 
ceedings had an air of haughtiness and independence, which of- 
fended the Duke of Ormond, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, 
as injurious to his grace's authority. ^^3 "phe duke resented this 
behaviour with great spirit. As there certainly was a great 
difference between them, both as to their birth and rank, and 
to their credit, it had been prudent in Talbot to have had 



2n.S MEMOIllS OF 

recourse to apologies aiul submission; but such conduct :\}t" 
peared to liim base, and unworthy for a man of his impori- 
auce to submit to : he accordingly acted with haughtiness and 
insolence ; but he was soon convinced of his error ; for, hav- 
ing inconsiderately launched out into some arrogant expres- 
sions, which it neither became him to utter, nor the Duke of 
Ormond to forgive, he was sent prisoner to the Tower, from 
whence he could not be released, until he had made all ne- 
cessary submissions to his grace : he therefore employed all 
his friends for that purpose, and wa-s obliged to yield more, 
to- get out of this scrape, than would have been necessary to 
have avoided it. By this imprudent conduct, he lost all hopes 
of marrying into a family, which, after such a proceeding, was 
not likely to listen to any proposal from him. 

It was with great difficulty and mortification that he was 
obliged to suppress a passion, which had made far greater 
progress in his heart, than this quarrel had done good to his 
affairs. This being the case, he Avas of opinion that his pre- 
sence was necessary in Ireland, and that he was better out of 
the way of Miss Hamilton, to remove those impressions which 
still troubled his repose : his departure, therefore, soon fol- 
lowed this resolution. 

Talbot played deep, and was tolerably forgetful : the Che- 
valier de Grammont w^on three or four hundred guineas of him 
the very evening on which he was sent to the Tower. That 
accident had made him forget his usual punctuality in paying, 
the next morning, whatever he had lost over-night ; and this 
debt had so far escaped his memory, that it never once occurred 
to him after he was enlarged. The Chevalier de Grammont. 
who saw him at his departure, without taking the least no- 
tice of the money he owed him, wished him a good journey ; 
and, having met him at court, as he came to take his leave of 
iho king : " Talbot,*' said he, " if my services can be of any 



cou^T GRA:\iyiOST. t>09 

use to joii, during your absence, you have but to command 
them : you know, old Russell has left his nephew as his resi- 
dent with Miss Hamilton : if you please, I will act for you in 
the same capacity. Adieu, God bless you : be sure not to fall 
sick upon the road ; but if you should, pray remember me in 
your will/' Talbot, who, upon this compliment, imme- 
diately recollected the money he owed the Chevalier, burst 
out a laughing, and embracing him : " My dear Chevalier," 
said he, " I am so much obliged to you for your offer, that I 
resign you my mistress, and will send you your money in- 
stantly." The Chevalier de Grammont possessed a thousand 
of these genteel ways of refreshing the memories of those per- 
sons who were apt to be forgetful in their payments. The 
following is the method he used some years after, with Lord 
Cornwallis :^24 i\j[q Iq^^ ]^^^ married the daughter of Sir Ste- 
phen Fox, ^25 treasurer of the king's household, one of the 
richest and most regular men in England. His son-in-law, on 
the contrary, was a young spendthrift, was very extravagant, 
loved gaming, lost as much as any one would trust him, but 
was not quite so ready at paying. His father-in-law disap- 
proved of his conduct, paid his debts, and gave him a lecture 
at the same time. The Chevalier de Grammont had won of 
him a thousand or twelve hundred guineas, which he heard no 
tidings of, although he was upon the eve of his departure, 
and he had taken leave of Cornwallis in a more particular 
manner than any other person. This obliged the Chevalier to 
write him a billet, which was rather laconic. It was this : 
" My Lord, 

" Pray remember the Count de Grammont, and do not for- 
get Sir Stephen Fox." 

To return to Talbot : he went away more concerned than 
became a man who had voluntarily resigned his mistress to 



210 MEMOIRS OF 

anotber : neither his stay in Ireland, nor his solicitude about 
his domestic affairs, perfectly cured him ; and if at his return 
he found himself disengaged from Miss Hamilton's chains, it 
was only to exchange them for others. The alteration that 
had taken place in the two courts occasioned this change in 
him, as we shall see in the sequel. 

We have hitherto only mentioned the queen s maids of 
honour, upon account of Miss Stewart and Miss Warmestre : 
the others were Miss Bellenden, Mademoiselle de la Garde, 
and Mademoiselle Bardou, all maids of honour, as it pleased 
God. 

Miss Bellenden was no beauty, but was a good-natured 
girl, whose chief merit consisted in being plump and fresh- 
coloured ; and who, not having a sufficient stock of wit to be 
•i. coquette in form, used all her endeavours to please every 
person by her complaisance. Mademoiselle de la Garde, and 
Mademoiselle Bardou, both French, had been preferred to 
their places by the queen dowager: the first was a little 
brunette, who was continually meddling in the affairs of her 
companions ; and the other by all means claimed the rank of 
a maid of honour, though she only lodged with the others, 
and both her title and services were constantly contested. 

It was hardly possible for a woman to be more ugly with so 
fine a shape ; but as a recompense, her ugliness was set off 
with every art. The use she was put to, was to dance with 
Vlamarens, and sometimes, towards the conclusion of a ball, 
possessed of castanets and effrontery, she would dance some 
figured saraband or other, which amused the court. Let us 
now see in what manner this ended. 

As Miss Stewart was very seldom in waiting on the queen, 
she was scarcely considered as a maid of honour : the others 
went off almost at the same time, by different adventures; 



COUNT GKAMMONT. 211 

nnd this is tlie history of Miss Warmestre, whom we have 
before mentioned, when speaking of the Chevalier de Gram^ 
mont. 

Lord Taafre,^^^ eldest son of the Earl of Carlingford, was 
supposed to be in love with her ; and Miss AYarmestr^ not 
only imagined it was so, but likewise persuaded herself thai 
he would not fail to marry her the first opportunity ; and in 
the mean time, she thought it her duty to entertain him with 
all the civility imaginable. Taaffe had made the Duke of 
Richmond his confidant : these two vrere particularly attached 
to each other; but still more so to wine. The Duke of Rich- 
mond,^^ notwithstanding his birth, made but an indifierent 
figure at court ; and the king respected him still less than his 
courtiers did : and j)erhaps it was in order to court his 
Majesty's favour, that he thought proper to fall in love with 
3Iiss Stewart. The duke and Lord Taaflfe made each other 
the confidants of their respective engagements ; and these 
were the measures they took to put their designs in execution. 
Little Mademoiselle de la Garde ^^^ was charged to acquaint 
3Iiss Stewart that the Duke of Richmond was dying of love 
for her, and that when he ogled her in public, it was a 
certain sign that he was ready to marry her, as soon as ever 
she would consent. 

Taafi'e had no commission to give the little ambassadress 
for Miss Warmestre ; for there every thing was already 
arranged ; but she was charged to settle and provide some 
conveniences which v/ere still wanting for the freedom of 
their commerce, such as to have free egress and regress to 
her at all hours of the day or night : this appeared difl[iculfc 
to be obtained, but it was, however, at length accomplished. 

The governess of the maids of honour, who for the world 
would not have connived at any thing that was not fair and 
honourable, consented that they should sup as often as they 

p2 



212 M I'M OIKS OF 

pleased in Miss Warmestre's npartiiicnts, proviJe.l tlielr 
inteutioiis were honourable, and she one of the company. 
The good old lady was particularly fond of green oysters, 
and had no aversion to Spanish wine : she was certain of 
finding at every one of these suppers two barrels of oysters ; 
one to be eaten with the party, and the other for her to carry 
away : as soon therefore as she had taken her dose of wine, 
she took her leave of the company. 

It was much about the tim.e that the Chevalier de Gram- 
mont had cast his eyes upon Miss Warmestre, that this kind 
of life was led in her chamber. God knows how many ham- 
pies, bottles of wine, and other products of his lordship's 
liberality, were there consumed ! 

In the midst of these nocturnal festivals, and of this 
innocent commerce, a relation of Killegrew's came up to 
London about a lawsuit : he gained his cause, but nearly 
lost his senses. 

He was a country gentleman, who had been a widower 
about six months, and w^as possessed of fifteen or sixteen 
thousand pounds a year : the good man, who had no busi- 
ness at court, went thither merely to see his cousin Killegrew, 
who could have dispensed with his visits. He there saw 
3Iiss TVarmestre ; and at first sight fell in love with her. 
His passion increased to such a degree, that, having no rest 
either by day or night, he was obliged to have recourse to extra- 
ordinary remedies ; he therefore early one morning called upon 
his cousin Killegrew, told him his case, and desired him to 
demand Miss Warmestr^ in marriage for him. 

Killegrew was struck with wonder and astonishment when 
he heard his design : nor could he cease wondering at what 
sort of creature, of all the women in London, his cousin had 
resolved upon marrying. It was some time before Kille- 
grew could believe tliat he was in earnc.-<t ; but when he Vv\as 



COUNT GKAMMONT. 213 

convinced that ho was, he began to enumerate the dangers 
and inconveniences attending so rash an enterprise. He told 
him, that a girl educated at court was a terrible piece of 
furniture for the country ; that to carry her thither against 
her inclination, would as effectually rob him of his happiness 
and repose, as if he was transported to hell ; that if he con- 
sented to let her stay, he needed only compute what it would 
cost him in equipage, table, clothes, and gaming-money, to 
maintain her m London according to her caprices ; and then 
to cast up how long his fifteen thousand a year would last. 

His cousin had already formed this computation ; but, 
finding his reason less potent than his love, he remained 
iixed in his resolution ; and Killegrew, yielding at length to 
liis importunities, went and offered his cousin, bound hand 
and foot, to the victorious fair. As he dreaded nothing more 
tliau a compliance on her part, so nothing could astonish him 
more than the contempt with whicli she received his proposal. 
The scorn with which she refused him made him believe fchat 
she was sure of Lord Taaffe, and wonder how a girl like her 
could find out two men wdio would venture to marry her. 
He hastened to relate this refusal, with all the most aggra- 
vating circumstances, as the best news he could carry to his 
cousin ; but his cousin would not believe him : he supposed 
that Killegrew disguised the truth, for the same reasons he 
had already alleged ; and not daring to mention the matter 
any more to him, he resolved to wait upon her himself. He 
summoned all his courage for the enterprise, and got his compli- 
ment by heart ; but as soon as he had opened his mouth for the 
purpose, she told him he might have saved himself the troublo 
of calling on her about such a ridiculous affair; that she 
had already given her answer to Killegrew; and that she 
neither had, nor ever should have, any other to give ; whicli 



214 MEMOIRS OF 

words she accompanied with all the severity with which im- 
portunate demands are usually refused. 

He was more affected than confounded at this repulse : 
every thing became odious to him in London, and he himself 
more so than all the rest : he therefore left town, without 
taking leave of his cousin, went back to his country seat, and 
thinking it would be impossible for him to live without the 
inhuman fair, he resolved to neglect no opportunity in his 
power to hasten his death. 

But whilst, in order to indulge his sorrow, he had forsaken 
all intercourse with dogs and horses ; that is to say, renounced 
all the delights and endearments of a country squire, the 
scornful nymph, who was certainly mistaken in her reckoning, 
took the liberty of being brought to bed in the face of the 
whole court. 

An adventure so public made no small noise, as we may 
very well imagine ; all the prudes at court at once broke loose 
upon it; and those principally, whose a,ge or persons scoured 
them from any such scandal, were the most inveterate, and 
cried most loudly for justice. But the governess of the maids 
of honour, who might have been called to an account for it, 
affirmed, that it was nothing at all, and that she was pos- 
sessed of circumstances Tvhich would at once silence all cen- 
sorious tongues. She had an audience of the queen, in order 
to unfold the mystery; and related to her majesty how every 
, thing had passed with her consent, tha<- is to say, upon honour- 
able terms. 

The queen sent to inquire of Lord Taaffe, whether he 
acknowledged Miss Warmestr^ for his wife : to which he most 
respectfully returned for answer, that he neither acknowledged 
Miss Warmestre nor her child, and that he wondered why she 
should rather father it upon him than any other. The unfortu- 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 215 

Date "Warmestre, more enraged at tlils answer than at tlie loss of 
such a lover, quitted the court as soon as ever she was able, 
with a resolution of quitting the world the first opportunity. 

Killegrew, being upon the point of setting out upon a jour- 
ney when this adventure happened, thought he might as well 
call upon his afflicted cousin in his way, to acquaint him with 
the circumstance ; and as soon as he saw him, without paying 
any attention to the delicacy of his love, or to his feelings, he 
bluntly told him the whole story : nor did he omit any colour- 
ing that could heighten his indignation, in order to make him 
burst with shame and resentment. 

I We read that the gentle Tiridates quietly expired upon the 
recital of the death of Mariamne ; but Kiliegrew's fond cou- 
sin, falling devoutly upon his knees, and lifting up his eyes to 
heaven, poured forth this exclamation : 

" Praised be the Lord for a small misfortune, which per- 
haps may prove the comfort of my life ! Who knows but the 
beauteous Warmestre will now accept of me for a husband ; 
and that I may have the happiness of passing the remainder 
of my days with a woman I adore, and by whom I may 
expect to have heirs?" "Certainly,'' said Killegrew, more 
confounded than his cousin ought to have been on such an 
occasion, " you may depend upon having both : I make no 
manner of doubt but she will marry you, as soon as ever she 
is recovered from her lying-in; and it would be great ill- 
nature in her, who already knows the way, to let you want 
children : however, in the mean time, I advise you to take 
that she has already, till you get more." 

Notwithstanding this raillery, all that was said did take 
place. This faithful lover courted her, as if she had been the 
chaste Lucretia, or the beauteous Helen : his passion even 
increased after marriage, and the generous fair, first out of 



216 MEMOIRS Oh' 

gratitude, and afterwards tlirougli inclination, never brought 
liim a child of wliicli he was not the father; and though thei'e 
liave been many a happy couple in England, this certainly 
was the happiest. 

Some time after, Miss Bellenden, not being territied by this 
example, had the prudence to quit the court before she was 
obliged so to do : the disagreeable Bardou followed her soon 
after ; but for different reasons. Every person was at last 
completely tired of her saraband, as well as of her face ; and 
the king, that he might see neither of them any more, gave 
each a small pension for her subsistence. There now only 
remained little Mademoiselle de la Garde to be provided for : 
neither her virtues nor her vices were sufficiently conspicuous 
to occasion her being either dismissed from court, or pressed to 
remain there : God knows what would have become of her, if 
a Mr. Silvius,^^ a man who had nothing of a Roman in him 
except the name, had not taken the poor girl to be his wife. 

We have now shewn how all these damsels deserved to be 
expelled, either for their irregularities, or for their ugliness ; 
and yet, those who replaced them found means to make them 
regretted. Miss Wells only excepted. 

She was a tall girl, exquisitely shaped : she dressed very 
genteel, walked like a goddess; and yet her face, though 
made like those that generally please the most, was unfortu- 
nately one of those that pleased the least : nature had spread 
over it a certain careless indolence that made her look sheepish. 
This gave but a bad opinion of her wit ; and her wit had the 
ill-luck to make good that opinion : however, as she was fresh- 
coloured, and appeared inexperienced, the king, whom the 
fair Stewart did not render over nice as to the perfections of 
the mind, resolved to try whether the senses would not fare 
better with Miss Wells's person than fine sentiments with her 



COUxNT GKxVMMONT. 217 

UTi(lerstanding : nor was this experiment attended with much 
difficulty : she was of a loyal family ; and her father having 
faithfully served Charles the First, she thought it her duty 
not to revolt against Charles the Second. But this connection 
was not attended with very advantageous circumstances for 
herself; some pretended that she did not hold out long enough, 
and that she surrendered at discretion before she was vigor- 
ously attacked ; and others said, that his majesty complained 
of certain other facilities still less pleasing. The Duke of 
Buckingham made a couplet upon this occasion, wherein the 
king, speaking to Progers,^^^ the coniSdant of his intrigues, 
puns upon the name of the fair one. 

Miss Wells, notwithstanding this species of anagram upon 
her name, and these remarks upon her person, shone the 
brightest among her new companions. These were Miss 
Levingston, Miss Fielding, and Miss Boynton, who little 
deserve to be mentioned in these memoirs ; therefore we shall 
leave them in obscurity until it please fortune to draw them 
out of it. 

This was the new establishment of maids of honour to the 
queen. The Duchess of York, nearly about the same time 
likewise recruited hers ; but shew^ed, by a happier and more 
brilliant choice, that England possessed an inexhaustible 
stock of beauties. But before we begin to speak of them, 
let us see who were the first maids of honour to her royal 
highness, and on what account they were removed. 

Besides Miss Blague and Miss Price, whom we liaA^e before 
mentioned, the establishment was composed of Miss Bagot 
and Miss Hobart, the president of the community. 

Miss Blague, who never knew the true reason of her 
quarrel with the Marquis de Brisacier, took it up upon that 
fatal letter she had received from him, wherein, without 



218 ME.^LOIUS OF 

acquainting lier tliat Miss Price was to wear tlie same sort of 
gloves and yellow riband as herself, he had only compli- 
mented lier upon her hair, her fair complexion, and her eyes 
marcasslns. This word dhe imagined must signify some- 
thing particularly wonderful, since her eyes were compared to 
it ; and being desirous, some time afterwards, to know all 
the energy of the expression, she asked the meaning of the 
French word marcassin. As there are no wild boars in 
England, those to whom she addressed herself told her that 
it signified a young pig. This scandalous simile confirmed 
her in the belief she entertained of his perfidy. Brisacier, 
more amazed at her change, than she was offended at his 
supposed calumny, looked upon her as a woman still more 
capricious than insignificant, and never troubled himself more 
about her ; but Sir Yarborough, of as fair a com- 
plexion as herself, made her an offer of marriage in the 
height of her resentment, and was accepted : chance made up 
this match, I suppose, as an experiment to try what such a 
white-haired union would produce. 

Miss Price was witty ; and as her person was not very 
likely to attract many admirers, which, however, she was 
resolved to have^ she was far from being coy, when an occa- 
sion offered : she did not so much as make any terms : she 
was violent in her resentments, as well as in her attachments, 
which had exposed her to some incouA^eniences ; and she had 
very indiscreetly quarrelled with a young girl whom Lord 
Rochester admired. This connection, which till then had 
been a secret, she had the imprudence to publish to the whole 
world, and thereby drew upon herself the most dangerous 
enemy in the universe : never did any man write with more 
ease, humour, spirit, and delicacy; but he was at the same 
time the most severe satirist. 



COU^'T GKArri:.:O.NT. 219 

Poor Miss Price, wlio liad thus voluntarily provoked Lis 
resentment, was daily exposed in some new shape : there was 
every day some new song or other, the subject of which was 
her conduct, and the burden her name. How was it possible 
for her to bear up against these attacks, in a court, where 
every person was eager to obtain the most insignificant trifle 
that came from the pen of Lord Rochester ? The loss of her 
lover, and the discovery that attended it, were only wanting 
to complete the persecution that was raised against her. 

About this time died Dongan,^^^ a gentleman of merit, who 
was succeeded by Durfort, afterwards Earl of reversham,^^^ 
in the post of lieutenant of the duke's life-guard» ; Miss 
Price having tenderly loved him, his death plunged her into 
1 gulf of despair ; but the inventory of his effects had almost 
deprived her of her senses : there was in it a certain little 
box sealed up on all sides : it was addressed in the deceased's 
own handwriting to Miss Price ; but instead of receiving it, 
she had not even the courage to look upon it. The governess 
thought it became her in prudence to receive it, on Miss 
Price's refusal, and her duty to deliver it to the duchess her- 
self, supposing it was filled with many curious and precious 
commodities, of which perhaps she might make some advan- 
tage. Though the duchess was not altogether of the same 
opinion, she had the curiosity to see what was contained in 
a box sealed up in a manner so particularly careful, and 
therefore caused it to be opened in the presence of some ladies, 
who happened then to be in her closet. 

All kinds of love trinkets were found in it ; and all these 
favours, it appeared, came from the tender-hearted Miss Price. 
It was difiicult to comprehend how a single person could have 
furnished so great a collection; for, besides counting the 
pictures, there was hair of all descriptions, wrought into 
bracelets, lockets, and into a thousand other different devices. 



2-20 iMEMoiRS or 

wonderful to see. After tliese were three or four packets of 
letters of so tender a nature, and so full of raptures and lan- 
guors so naturally expressed, that the duchess could not endure 
the reading of any more than the two first. 

Her royal highness was sorry that she had caused the box 
to be opened in such good company ; for being before such 
witnesses, she rightly judged it was impossible to stifle this 
adventure ; and, at the same time, there being no possibility 
of retaining any longer such a maid of honour, Miss Price 
had her valuables restored to her, with orders to go and finish 
her lamentations, or to console herself for the loss of her lover 
in some other place. | 

Miss Hobart's character was at that time as uncommon in 
England, as her person was singular, in a country where, to 
be young, and not to be in some degree handsome, is a reproach : 
she had a good shape, rather a bold air ; and a great deal of 
wit, which was well cultivated, without having much discre- 
tion. She was likewise possessed of a great deal of vivacity, 
with an irregular fancy : there was a great deal of fire in her 
eyes, which, however, produced no effect upon the beholders ; 
and she had a tender heart, whose sensibility some pretended 
was alone in favour of the fair sex. 

Miss Bagot ^^ was the first that gained her tenderness and 
affection, which she returned at first with equal warmth and 
sincerity ; but perceiving that all her friendship was insufficient 
to repay that of Miss Hobart, she yielded the conquest to the 
governess's niece, who thought herself as much honoured by 
it, as her aunt thought herself obliged by the care she took 
of the young girl. 

It was not long before the report, whether true or false, of 
this singularity, spread through the whole court, where peo- 
].Ic, being yet so uncivilized as never to have heard of that 
iilnd of refinement in love of ancient Greece, imagined that 



cou^'T gha:\l'\iont. 221 

the illustrious Ilobart, who seemed so particularly attached to 
the fair sex, was in reality something more than she appeared 
to be. 

Satirical ballads soon began to compliment her upon these 
new attributes ; and upon the insinuations that were therein 
made, her companions began to fear her. The governess, 
alarmed at these reports, consulted Lord Rochester upon the 
dajiger to which her niece was exposed. She could not have 
applied to a fitter person : he immediately advised her to take 
her niece out of the hands of Miss Hobart; and contrived 
matters so well, that she fell into his own. The duchess, who 
had too much generosity not to treat as visionary what was 
imputed to Miss Hobart, and too much justice to condemn her 
upon the faith of lampoons, removed her from the society of 
the maids of honour, to be an attendant upon her own person. 
Miss Bagot was the only one who was really possessed of 
virtue and beauty, among these maids of honour : she had 
beautiful and regular features, and that sort of brown com- 
plexion, which, when in perfection, is so particularly fasci- 
nating, and more especially in England, where it is uncommon. 
There was an involuntary blush almost continually upon her 
cheek, without having any thing to blush for. Lord Falmouth 
cast his eyes upon her : his addresses were better received 
than those of Miss Hobart, and some time after Cupid raised 
her from the post of maid of honour to the duchess, to a rank 
which might have been envied by all the young ladies in 
England. 

The Duchess of York, in order to form her new court, 
resolved to see all the young persons that offered themselves, 
and without any regard to recommendations, to choose none 
but the handsomest. 

At the head of this new assembly appe tred Miss flenniugs^^ 



222 MEMOIRS OF 

and ]Miss Temple ;^^ and indeed they so entirely eclipsed tlie 
other two, that we shall speak of them only. 

Miss Jennings, adorned with all the blooming treasures of 
youth, had the fairest and brightest complexion that ever was 
seen : her hair was of a most beauteous flaxen : there was 
something particularly lively and animated in her countenance, 
which preserved her from that insipidity which is frequently 
an attendant on a complexion so extremely fair. Her mouth 
was not the smallest, but it was the handsomest mouth in the 
world. Nature had endowed her with all those charms which 
cannot be expressed, and the Graces had given the finishing 
stroke to them. The turn of her face was exquisitely fine, 
and her swelling neck was as fair and as bright as her face. 
In a word, her person gave the idea of Aurora, or the goddess 
of the spring, " such as youthful poets fancy when they love.' 
But as it would have been unjust that a single person should 
have engrossed all the treasures of beauty without any defect, 
there was something wanting in her hands and arms to render 
them worthy of the rest : her nose was not the most elegant, 
and her eyes gave some relief, whilst her mouth and her other 
charms pierced the heart with a thousand darts. 

With this amiable person she v/as full of wit and spright- 
liness, and all her actions and motions were unaffected and 
easy : her conversation was bewitching, when she had a mind 
to please ; piercing and delicate when disposed to raillery ; 
but as her imagination was subject to flights, and as she began 
to speak frequently before she had done thinking, her ex- 
pressions did not always convey wdiat she wished; sometimes 
exceeding, and at others falling short of her ideas. 

Miss Temple, nearly of the same age, was brown compared I 
with the other : si 3 had a good shape, fine teeth, languishing I 
eyos^ a fresh comple.don, an agreeable smile, and a lively air. 



COUNT GKAMMONT. 223 

Such was the outward form ; but it would be difficult to de- 
scribe the rest ; for she was simple and vain, credulous and 
suspicious, coquettish and prudent, very self-sufficient, and 
very silly. 

As soon as these new stars appeared at the duchess's court, 
all eyes were fixed upon them, and every one formed some 
design upon one or other of them, some with honourable, and 
others with dishonest intentions. Miss Jennings soon distin- 
guished herself, and left her companions no other admirers 
but such as remained constant from hopes of success : her 
brilliant charms attracted at first sight, and the charms of her 
wit secured her conquests. 

The Duke of York having persuaded himself that she was 
part of his property, resolved to pursue his claim by the same 
title whereby his brother had appropriated to himself the 
favours of Miss Wells ; but he did not find her inclined to 
enter into his service, though she had engaged in that of the 
duchess. She would not pay any attention to the perpetual 
ogling with which he at first attacked her. Pier eyes were 
always wandering on other objects, when those of his royal 
highness were looking for them ; and if by chance he caught 
any casual glance, she did not even blush. This made him 
resolve to change his manner of attack : ogling having proved 
inefiectual, he took an opportunity to speak to her ; and this 
was still worse. I know not in what strain he told his case ; 
but it is certain the oratory of the tongue was not more pre- 
vailing than the eloquence of his ejes. 

Miss Jennings had both virtue and pride, and the proposals 
of the duke were consistent with neither the one nor the 
other. Although from her great vivacity one might suppose 
that she was not capable of much reflection, yet she had fur- 
nished herself with some very salutary maxims for the conduct 
of a young person of her age. The first was, that a lady ought 



224 MEMOIRS OF 

to be young to enter the court with advantage, and not old to 
leave it with a good grace : that she could not maintain her- 
self there, but by a glorious resistance, or by illustrious foibles ; 
and that in so dangerous a situation, she ought to use her 
utmost endeavours not to dispose of her heart, until she gave 
her hand. 

Entertaining such sentiments, she had far less trouble to 
resist the duke's temptations, than to disengage herself from 
his perseverance : she was deaf to all treaties for a settlement, 
with which her ambition was sounded ; and all offers of pre- 
sents succeeded still worse. What was then to be done to 
conquer an extravagant virtue that would not hearken to 
reason ? He was ashamed to suffer a giddy young girl to 
escape, whose inclinations ought in some manner to corre- 
spond with the vivacity that shone forth in all her actions, 
and who nevertheless thought proper to be serious when no 
such thing as seriousness was required of her. 

After he had attentively considered her obstinate beha- 
viour, he thought that writing might perhaps succeed, though 
ogling, speeches, and embassies had failed. Paper receives 
every thing, but it unfortunately happened that she would not 
receive fhe paper. Every day billets, containing the tender- 
est expressions, and most magnificent promises, were slipped 
into her pockets, or into her muff : this, however, could not 
be done unperceived ; and the malicious little gipsy took care 
that those who saw them slip in, should likewise see them fall 
out, un perused and unopened ; she only shook her muff, or 
pulled out her handkerchief; as soon as ever his back was 
turned, his billets fell about her like hailstones, and whoever 
pleased might take them up. The duchess was frequently 
a witness of this conduct ; but could not find in her heart 
to chide her for her want of respect to the duke. After 
this, the charnis and prudence of Miss Jennings were the only 



J 



COU^T GRAMMONT. 225 

subjects of conversation in the tv\^o courts : the courtiers could 
not comprehend how a young creature, brought directly from 
the country to court, should so soon become its ornament by 
her attractions, and its example by her conduct. 

The king was of opinion, those who had attacked her had 
ill concerted their measures ; for he thought it unnatural that 
she should neither be tempted by promises, nor gained by 
importunity : she, especially, who in all probability had not 
imbibed such severe precepts from the prudence of her 
mother, who had never tasted any thing more delicious than 
the plums and apricots of Saint Alban s.^^^ Being resolved 
to try her himself, he was particularly pleased with the 
great novelty that appeared in the turn of her wit, and in the 
charms of her person ; and curiosity, which at first induced 
him to make the trial, was soon changed into a desire of 
succeeding in the experiment. God knows what might have 
been the consequence, foi- he greatly excelled in wit, and 
besides he was king : two qualities of na small consideration. 
i he resolutions of the fair Jennings were commendable and 
very judicious ; but yet she was wonderfully pleased with wit ; 
and royal majesty, prostrate at the feet of a young person, is 
very persuasive. Miss Stewart, however, would not consent 
to the king's project. 

She immediately took the alarm, and desired his majesty 
to leave to the duke, his brother, the care of tutoring the 
duchess's maids of honour, and only to attend to the manage- 
ment of his own flock, unless his majesty would in return 
allow her to listen to certain proposals of a settlement which 
she did not think disadvantageous. This menace being of a 
serious nature, the king obeyed ; and Miss Jennings had all 
the additional honour which arose from this adventure : it 
both added to her reputation, and increased the number of 
her admirers. Thus she continued to triumph over the liber- 

Q 



226 MEMOIRS OF 

ties of otliers, without ever losing lier ov/n : her hour was not 
yet come, but it was not far distant ; the particulars of which 
we shall relate, as soon as we have given some account of the 
conduct of her companion. 

Though jMiss Temple's person was particularly engaging, 
it was nevertheless eclipsed by that of Miss Jennings ; but 
she was still more excelled by the other's superior mental 
accomplishments. Two persons, very capable to impart un- 
derstanding, had the gift been communicable, undertook at 
the same time to rob her of the little she really possessed : 
these were Lord Rochester and Miss Hobart : the first began 
to mislead her, by reading to her all his compositions, as if 
she alone had been a ]3roper judge of them. He never 
thought proper to flatter her upon her personal accomplish- 
ments ; but told her, that if heaven had made him suscepti- 
ble of the impressions of beauty, it would not have been 
possible for him to have escaped her chains ; but not being, 
thank God, affected with any thing but wit, he had the 
happiness of enjoying the most agreeable conversation in the 
world, without running any risk. After so sincere a confes- 
sion, he either presented to her a copy of verses, or a new 
song, in which, whoever dared to come in competition in any 
respect with Miss Temple, was laid prostrate before her 
charms, most humbly to solicit pardon : such flattering 
insinuations so com-pletely turned her head, that it was a pity 
to see her. 

The duchess took notice of it, and well knowing the extent 
of both their geniuses, she saw the precipice into which the 
poor girl was running headlong without perceiving it ; but 
as it is no less dangerous to forbid a connection that is not yet 
thought of, than it is difficult to put an end to one that is 
already well established. Miss Hobart was charged to take 
care, with all possible discretion, that these frequent and long 



COUNT GRAIvIMONT. 227 

conversations might not be attended witli any dangerous 
consequences : with pleasure she accepted the commission, 
and greatly flattered herself with success. 

She had already made all necessary advances, to gain pos- 
session of her confidence and friendship ; and Miss Temple, 
less suspicious of her than of Lord Rochester, made all 
imaginable returns. She was greedy of praise, and loved all 
manner of sweetmeats, as much as a child of nine or ten 
years old : her taste was gratified in both these respects. 
Miss Hobart having the superintendence of the duchess's 
baths, her apartment joined them, in which there was a closet 
stored with all sorts of sweetmeats and liqueurs : the closet 
suited Miss Temple's taste, as exactly as it gratified Miss 
Hobart's inclination, to have something that could allure her. 
Summer, being now returned, brought back with it the plea- 
sures and diversions that are its inseparable attendants. One 
day, when the ladies had been taking the air on horseback, 
Miss Temple, on her return from riding, alighted at Miss 
Hobart's, in order to recover her fatigue at the expense of 
the sweetmeats, which she knew were there at her service ; 
but before she began, she desired Miss Hobart's permission to 
undress herself and change her linen in her apartment ; 
which request was immediately complied with : " I was just 
going to propose it to you," said Miss Hobart, " not but that 
you are as charming as an angel in your riding-habit ; but 
there is nothing so comfortable as a loose dress, and being at 
one's ease : you cannot imagine, my dear Temple," continued 
she, embracing her, " how much you oblige me by this free 
unceremonious conduct ; but above all, I am enchanted with 
vour particular attention to cleanliness : how greatly you 
differ in this, as in many other things, from that silly creature 
Jennings ! Have you remarked how all our court fops admire 
her for her brilliant complexion, which perhaps, after all, if 

q2 



228 iMi,Mo:ju OF 

iiot ^yholly her own ; and for blunders, which are truly 
original and which they are such fools as to mistake for wit : 
I ha^^c not conversed with her Jong enough to perceive in what 
her wit consists ; but of this I am certain, that if it is not 
better than her feet, it is no great matter. What stories have 
I heard of her sluttishness ! No cat ever dreaded water so 
much as she does : Fie npon her ! Never to wash for her 
own comfort, and only to attend to those parts which must 
necessarily be seen, such as the neck and hands." 

Miss Temple swallowed all this with even greater pleasure 
than the sweetmeats; and the officious Hobart, not to lose 
time, was helping her off with her clothes, while the chamber- 
maid was coming. She made some objections to this at first, 
being unwilling to occasion that trouble to a person, who, 
like Miss Hobart, had been advanced to a place of dignity ; 
but she was overruled by her, and assured, that it was v/ith 
the greatest pleasure she shewed her that small mark of 
civility. The collation being finished, and Miss Temple un- 
dressed : " Let us retire," said Miss Hobart, " to the bathing 
closet, where we may enjoy a little conversation, secure from 
any impertinent visit." Miss Temple consented, and both of 
them, sitting down on a couch : " You are too young, my dear 
Temple," said she, '' to know the baseness of men in general, 
and too short a time acquainted with the court, to know the 
character of its inhabitants. I vvill give you a short sketch 
of the principal persons, to the best of my knowledge, without 
injury to any one ; for I abominate the trade of scandal. 

" In the first place, then, you ought to set it down as an 
undoubted fact, that all courtiers are deficient, either in 
honesty, good sense, judgment, wit, or sincerity; that is to 
say, if any of them by chance possess some one of these 
qualities, you may depend upon it he is defective in the 
rest : sumptuous in their equipages, deep play, a great o}>inion 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 22D 

of their own merit, and contempt of that of others, are their 
chief characteristics. 

" Interest or pleasure are the motives of all their actions : 
those who are led by the first, would sell God Almighty, as 
Judas sold his Master, and that for less money. I could 
relate you a thousand noble instances of this, if I had time. 
As for the sectaries of pleasure, or those who pretend to be 
such, for they are not ail so bad as they endeavour to make 
themselves appear, these gentlemen pay no manner of regard, 
either to promises, oaths, law, or religion; that is to say, 
they are literally no respecters of persons ; they care neither 
for God nor man, if they can but gain their ends. They 
look upon maids of honour only as amusements, placed ex- 
pressly at court for their entertainment ; and the more merit 
any one has, the more she is exposed to their impertinence, 
if she gives any ear to them; and to their malicious calum- 
nies, when she ceases to attend to them. As for husbands, 
this is not the place to find them ; for unless money or caprice 
make up the match, there is but little hopes of being married : 
virtue and beauty in this respect here are equally useless. 
Lady Falmouth is the only instance of a maid of honour 
well married without a portion ; and if you were to ask her 
poor weak husband for what reason he married her, I am 
persuaded that he can assign none, unless it be her great 
red ears, and broad feet. As for the pale Lady Yarborough, 
who appeared so proud of her match, she is wife, to be sure, 
of a great country bumpkin, who, the very week after their 
marriage, bid her take her farewell of the town for ever, in 
consequence of five or six thousand pounds a year he enjoys 
on the borders of Cornwall. Alas ! poor Miss Blague ! I 
saw her go away about this time twelvemonth, in a coach 
with four such lean horses, that 1 cannot believe she is yet 
half-way to her miserable little castle. What can be the 



230 ]\jEMv>::cs oi^ 

matter ! all the girls seem afliicted with the rage of wedlock, 
and how^ever small their portion of charms may bo, they 
think it only necessary to shew themselves at court, in order 
to pick and choose their men : but was this in reality the 
case, the being a w^ife is the most wretched condition ima- 
ginable for a person of nice sentiments. Believe me, my dear 
Temple, the pleasures of matrimony are so inconsiderable, in 
comparison with its inconveniences, that I cannot imagine 
how any reasonable creature can resolve upon it : rather fly, 
therefore, from this irksome engagement than court it. Jea- 
lousy, formerly a stranger to these happy isles, is now com- 
ing into fashion, with many recent examples of wdiich you 
are acquainted. However brilliant the phantom may apjDear, 
suffer not yourself to be caught by its splendour, and never 
be so w^eak as to transform your slave into your tyrant : as 
long as you preserve your own liberty, you will be mistress 
of that of others. I will relate to you a very recent proof 
of the perfidy of man to our sex, and of the impunity they 
experience in all attempts upon our innocence. The Earl of 
Oxford ^•^'' fell in love with a handsome, graceful actress, be- 
longing to the duke's theatre, who performed to perfection, 
particularly the part of Roxana, in a very fashionable new 
play, insomuch that she ever after retained that name : this 
creature being both very virtuous, and A'ery modest, or, if 
you jdease, wonderfully obstinate, proudly rejected the ad- 
<lresses and presents of the Earl of Oxford. This resistance 
inflamed his passion : he had recourse to invectives, and ev^en 
to spells ; but all in vain. This disappointment had such 
effect upon him, that he could neither eat nor drink ; this 
did not signify to him ; but his passion at length became so 
violent, that he could neither play nor smoke. In this ex- 
tremity, love had recourse to Hymen : the Earl of Oxford, 
one of the first peers of the rcahn, is, you know, a very 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 231 

handsome man : he is of the order of the garter, which 
greatly adds to an air naturally noble. In short, from his 
outward appearance, you would suppose he was really pos- 
sessed of some sense ; but as soon as ever you hear him 
speak, you are perfectly convinced of the contrary. This 
passionate lover presented her with a promise of marriage, in 
due form, signed with his own hand : she would not, how- 
ever, rely upon this, but the next day she thought there 
could be no danger, when the earl himself came to her 
lodgings attended by a clergyman, and another man for a 
witness : the marriage was accordingly solemnized with all due 
ceremonies, in the presence of one of her fellow-players, who 
attended as a witness on her part. You will suppose, per- 
haps, that the new countess had nothing to do but to appear 
at court according to her rank, and to display the earl's arms 
upon her carriage. This was far from being the case. When 
examination was made concerning the marriage, it was found 
to be a mere deception : it appeared that the pretended priest 
was one of my lord's trumpeters, and the witness his kettle- 
drummer. The parson and his companion never appeared 
after the ceremony was over ; and as for the other witness, 
they endeavoured to persuade her, that the Sultana E-oxana 
might have supposed, in some part or other of a play, that 
she was really married. It was all to no purpose, that the 
poor creature claimed the protection of the laws of God and 
man, both which were violated and abused, as well as her- 
self, by this infamous imposition : in vain did she throw her- 
self at the king's feet to demand justice : she had only to rise 
up again without redress ; and happy might she think her- 
self to receive an annuity of one thousand crowns, and to 
resume the name of Roxana, instead of Countess of Oxford. 
You will say, perhaps, that she was only a player ; that all 
men ha-ve not the same sentiments as the earl ; and, that one 



232 MEMOIRS OF 

may at least believe them, when they do but render justice to 
such merit as yours. But still do not believe them, though I 
know you are liable to it, as you have admirers ; for all are 
not infatuated with Miss Jennings : the handsome Sidney 
ogles you ; Lord Rochester is delighted with your conversa- 
tion ; and the most serious Sir Charles Lyttleton forsakes his 
natural gravity in favour of your charms. As for the first, 
I confess his figure is very likely to engage the inclinations 
of a young person like yourself ; but were his outward form 
attended with other accomplishments, which I know it is not, 
and that his sentiments in your favour were as real as he 
endeavours to persuade you they are, and as you deserve, yet 
I would not advise you to form any connections with him, for 
reasons which I cannot tell you at present. 

" Sir Charles Lyttleton is undoubtedly in earnest, since he 
appears ashamed of the condition to which you have reduced 
him ; and I really believe, if he could get the better of those 
vulgar chimerical apprehensions, of being what is vulgarly 
called a cuckold, the good man would marry you, and you 
would be his representative in his little government, where 
you might merrily pass your days in casting up the weekly 
bills of housekeeping, and in darning old napkins. What a 
glory would it be to have a Cato for a husband, whose 
speeches are as many lectures, and whose lectures are com- 
posed of nothing but ill-nature and censure ! 

" Lord Rochester is, without contradiction, the most witty 
man in all England ; but then he is likewise the most unprin- 
cipled, and devoid even of the least tincture of honour : he 
is dangerous to our sex alone ; and that to such a degree, 
that tliere is not a woman who gives ear to him three times, 
but she irretrievably loses her reputation. No woman can 
escape him, for he has her in his writings, though his other 
attacks be inefi*ectual ; and in the age we live in, the one is 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 233 

as bad as the other, in the eye of the public. In the mean 
time nothing is more dangerous than the artful insinuating 
manner with which he gains possession of the mind : he 
applauds your taste, submits to your sentiments, and at the 
very instant that he himself does not believe a single word 
of what he is saying, he makes you believe it all. I dare 
lay a wager, that from the conversation you have had with 
him, you thought him one of the most honourable and sin- 
cerest men living : for my part, I cannot imagine what he 
means by the assiduity he pays you : not but your accom- 
plishments are sufficient to excite the adoration and praise of 
the whole world ; but had he even been so fortunate as to 
have gained your affections, he would not know what to do 
with the loveliest creature at court : for it is a long time 
since his debauches have brought him to order, with the 
assistance of the favours of all the common street-walkers. 
See, then, my dear Temple, what horrid malice possesses 
him, to the ruin and confusion of innocence ! A wretch 1 
to have no other design in his addresses and assiduities to 
Miss Temple, but to give a greater air of probability to 
the calumnies with which he has loaded her. You look upon 
me with astonishment, and seem to doubt the truth of what I 
advance ; but I do not desire you to believe me without 
evidence : here,*' said she, drawing a paper out of her 
pocket, " see what a copy of verses he has made in vour 
praise, while he lulls your credulity to rest, by flattering 
speeches and feigned respect." 

After saying this, the perfidious Hobart shewed her half a 
dozen couplets full of strained invective and scandal, which 
Rochester had made against the former maids of honour. 
This severe and cutting lampoon was principally levelled 
ugainst Miss Price, whose person he took to pieces in the most 
frightful and hideous manner imaginable. Miss Hobart had 



234 MEMOIRS OP I 

substituted the name of Tem]3le instead of Price, which she 
made to agree, both with the measure and tune of the song- 
This effectually answered Hobart's intentions : the credulous 
Temple no sooner heard her sing the lampoon, but she firmly 
believed it to be made upon herself; and in the first transports 
of her rage, having nothing so much at heart as to give the? 
lie to the fictions of the poet : " Ah ! as for this, my dear 
Hobart," said she, " I can bear it no longer : I do not pretend 
to be so handsome as some others ; but as for the defects that 
villain charges me with, I dare say, my dear Hobart, there is 
no woman more free from them : we are alone, and I am al- 
most inclined to convince you by ocular demonstration/* Miss 
Hobart was too complaisant to oppose this motion ; but, al- 
though she soothed her mind by extolling all her beauties, in 
opposition to Lord Rochester's song. Miss Temple was almost 
driven to distraction by rage and astonishment, that the first 
man she ever attended to, should, in his conversation with her, 
not even make use of a single word of truth, but that he 
should likewise ha.ve the unparalleled cruelty, falsely to accuse 
her of defects ; and not being able to find words capable of 
expressing her anger and resentment, she began to weep like 
a child. 

Miss Hobart used all her endeavours to comfort her, and 
chid her for being so much hurt with the invectives of a per- 
son, whose scandalous impostures were too well known to 
make any impression : she however advised her never to speak 
to him any more, for that was the only method to disappoint 
his designs ; that contempt and silence were, on such occasions, 
much preferable to any explanation, and that if he could once 
obtain a hearing, he would be justified, but she would be 
ruined. 

Miss Hobart was not wrong in giving her this counsel : she 
knew that an explanation would betray her, and that there 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 235 

would be no quarter for lier, if Lord Rochester had so fair an 
opportunity of renewing his former panegyrics upon her ; 
but her precaution was in vain : this conversation had been 
heard from one end to the other, by the governess's niece, who 
was blessed with a most faithful memory; and, having that 
very day an appointment with Lord Rochester, she conned it 
over three or four times, that she might not forget one single 
word, when she should have the honour of relating it to her 
lover. We shall shew in the next chapter, what were the 
consequences resulting from. it. 



236 jiEMoms or 



CHAPTER X. j 

I* 

The conversation before related was agreeable only to Miss 
Hobart ; for, if Miss Temple was entertained with its comi 
mencement, she was so much the more irritated by its con- 
clusion : this indignation was succeeded by the curiosity of 
knowing the reason why, if Sidney had a real esteem for her, 
she should not be allowed to pay some attention to him. The 
tender-hearted Hobart, unable to refuse her any request, pro- 
mised her this piece of confidence, as soon as she should be 
secure of her conduct towards Lord Rochester : for this she 
only desired a trial of her sincerity for three days, after which, 
she assured her, she would acquaint her with every thing she 
wished to know. Miss Temple protested she no longer 
regarded Lord Eochester but as a monster of perfidiousness, 
and vowed, by all that was sacred, thai she would never listen 
to him, much less speak to him, as long as she lived. 

As soon as they retired from the closet, Miss Sarah came 
out of the bath, where, during all this conversation, she had 
been almost perished with cold without daring to complain. 
This little gypsy had, it seems, obtained leave of 3Iiss 
Hobart's woman to bathe herself unknown to her mistress ; 
and having, I know not hovr, found means to fill one of the 
baths with cold water. Miss Sarah had just got into it, when 
tliey were both alarmed with the arrival of the other two. A 
glass partition inclosed the room where the baths were, and 
Indian silk-curtains, which drew on the inside, screened those 
that were bathing. Miss Ilobart's chambermaid had only ^ 
just time to draw these curtains, that the girl might not be 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 237 

seen, to lock the partition door, and to take away the kej, 
:iefore her mistress and Miss Temple came in. 

These two sat down on a couch placed along the partition, 
md Miss Sarah, notwithstanding her alarms, had distinctly 
leard, and perfectly retained the whole conversation. As the 
it tie girl was at all this trouble to make herself clean, only on 
Lord Rochester's account, as soon as ever she could make her 
escape, she regained her garret ; where Rochester, having 
•epaired thither at the appointed hour, was fully informed of 
ill that had passed in the bathing-room. He was astonished 
it the audacious temerity of Hobart, in daring to put such a 
irick upon him; but, though he rightly judged that love and 
ealousy were the real motives, he would not excuse her. Lit- 
tle Sarah desired to know, whether he had a real affection for 
Miss Temple, as Miss Hobart said she supposed that was the 
?ase. '' Can you doubt it," replied he, " since that oracle of 
sincerity has affirmed it ? But then you know that I am not 
50 w capable of profiting by my perfidy, were I even to gaia 
iVIiss Temple's compliance, since my debauches and the street - 
^valkers have brought me to order.'' 

This answer made Miss Sarah very easy, for she concluded 
bhat the first article was not true, since she knew from expe- 
dence that the latter was false. Lord Rochester was resolved 
that very evening to attend the duchess's court, to see what 
reception he would meet with after the fine portrait Miss 
Hobart had been so kind as to draw of him. Miss Temple 
did not fail to be there likewise, with the intention of looking 
on him w^th the most contemptuous disdain possible, though 
she had taken care to dress herself as well as she could. As 
she supposed that the lampoon Miss Hobart had sung to her 
vvas in every body's possession, she was under great embar- 
rassment lest all those whom she met should think her such a 
monster as Lord Rochester had described her. In the mean 



238 MEMOIRS OF 

time. Miss Hobart, who Lad not mucli confidence in her pro- 
mises never more to speak to him, narrowly watched her. 
Miss Temple never in her life appeared so handsome : every 
person complimented her upon it ; but she received all these 
civilities with such an air, that every one thought she was 
mad ; for when they commended her shape, her fresh com- 
plexion, and the brilliancy of her eyes : " Pshaw," said she, 
" it is very well known that I am but a monster, and formed 
in no respect like other women : all is not gold that glisters ; 
and though I may receive some compliments in public, it sig- 
nifies nothing." All Miss Hobart's endeavours to stop her 
tongue were inefiectual ; and, continuing to rail at herself 
ironically, the whole court was puzzled to comprehend her 
meaning. 

When Lord Rochester came in, she first blushed, then 
turned pale, made a motion to go towards him, drew back 
again, pulled her gloves one after the other up to the elbow ; 
and after having three times violently flirted her fan, she 
waited until he paid his compliments to her as usual, and cs 
soon as he began to bow, the fair one immediately turned her 
back upon him. Rochester only smiled, and being resolved 
that her resentment should be still m.ore remarked, he turned 
round, and posting himself face to face : " Madam," said he, 
" nothing can be so glorious as to look so charming as you 
do, after such a fatiguing day : to support a ride of three 
long hours, and Miss Hobart afterwards, without being tired, 
shews indeed a very strong constitution." 

Miss Temple had naturally a tender look, but she was 
transported with such a violent passion at his having the 
audacity to speak to her, that her eyes appeared like two 
fire-balls when she turned them upon him. Hobart pinched 
her arm, as she perceived that this look was likely to be fol- 
lowed by a torrent of reproaches and invectives. 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 239 

Lord Hochester did not wait for tliem, and delaying until 
another opportunity the acknowledgments he owed Miss Ho- 
bart, he quietly retired. The latter, who could not imagine 
that he knew any thing of their conversation at the bath, 
was, however, much alarmed at what he had said ; but Miss 
Temple, almost choked with the reproaches with which she 
thought herself able to confound him, and which she liad not 
time to give vent to, vowed to ease her mind of them upon 
the first opportunity, notwithstanding the promise she had 
made ; but never more to speak to him afterwards. 

Lord Rochester had a faithful spy near these nymphs : 
this was Miss Sarah, who, by his advice, and with her aunt's 
consent, was reconciled with Miss Hobart, the more effec- 
tually to betray her : he was informed by this spy, that IMiss 
Hobart's maid, being suspected of having listened to them in 
the closet, had been turned away ; that she had taken another, 
whom, in all probability, she would not keep long, because, 
in the first place, she was ugly, and, in the second, she eat the 
sweetmeats that were prepared for Miss Temple. Although 
this intelligence was not very material, Sarah was nevertheless 
praised for her punctuality and attention ; and a few days 
afterwards, she brought him news of real importance. 

Rochester was by her informed, that Miss Hobart and her 
new favourite designed, about nine o'clock in the evening, to 
walk in the Mall, in the Park ; that they were to change 
clothes with each other, to put on scarfs, and wear black 
masks : she added, that Miss Hobart had strongly opposed 
this project, but that she was obliged to give way at last. Miss 
Temple having resolved to indulge her fancy. 

Upon the strength of this intelligence, Rochester con- 
certed his measures : he went to Killegrew, complained to 
him of the trick which Miss Hobart had played him, and de- 
sired his assistance in ol^der to be revenged : this was readily 



240 >ii:.uoiKs OF 

granted, and having acquainted liim with the measures he in- 
tended to pursue, and given him the part he was to act in this 
adventure, they went to the Mall. 

Presently after appeared our two nymphs in masquerade : 
their shapes were not very different, and their faces, which 
were very unlike each other, were concealed with their masks. 
The company was but thin in the Park ; and as soon as Miss 
Temple perceived them at a distance, she quickened her pace 
in order to join them, with the design, under her disguise, 
severely to reprimand the perfidious Rochester; when Miss 
Hobart stopping her : " Where are you running to ? " said 
she ; '' have you a mind to engage in conversation with these 
two devils, to be exposed to all the insolence and imperti- 
nence for which they are so notorious ?" These remonstrances 
w^ere entirely useless : Miss Temple was resolved to try the 
experiment : and all that could be obtained from her, 
was, not to answer any of the questions Rochester might 
ask her. 

They were accosted just as they had done speaking: Ro- 
chester fixed upon Hobart, pretending to take her for the 
other ; at which she was overjoyed ; but Miss Temple was ex- 
tremely sorry she fell to Killegrew's share, with whom she had 
nothing to do : he perceived her uneasiness, and, pretending 
to know her by her clothes : " Ah ! Miss Hobart," said he, 
" be so kind as look this way if you please : I know not by 
what chance you both came hither, but I am sure it is very 
apropos for you, since I have something to say to you, as 
your friend and humble servant." 

This beginning raising her curiosity. Miss Temple appeared 
more inclined to attend him; and Killegrew perceiving that 
the other couple had insensibly proceeded some distance from 
I hem : "In the name of God," said he : " what do you 
mean by railing so against Lord Rochester, whom you know 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 24 1 

to be one of the most honourable men at court, and whom 
you nevertheless described as the greatest villain, to the 
person whom of all others he esteems and respects the most ? 
What do you think would become of you, if he knew that 
you made Miss Temple believe she is the person alluded to 
in a certain song, which you know as well as myself was 
made upon the clumsy Miss Price, above a year before the 
fair Temple was heard of? Be not surprised that I know 
so much of the matter ; but pay a little attention, I pray 
you, to what I am now going to tell you out of pure friend- 
ship : your passion and inclinations for Miss Temple are 
known to every one but herself; for whatever methods you 
used to impose upon her innocence, the world does her the 
justice to believe that she would treat you as Lady Falmouth 
did, if the poor girl knew the wicked designs you had upon 
her : I caution you, therefore, against making any further 
advances, to a person, too modest to listen to them : I advise 
you likewise to take back your maid again, in order to silence 
her scandalous tongue ; for she says everywhere that she is 
with child, that you are the occasion of her being in that 
condition, and accuses you of behaving towards her with the 
blackest ingratitude, upon trifling suspicions only : you know 
very well, these are no stories of my own invention : but 
that you may not entertain any manner of doubt, that I had 
all this from her own mouth, she has told me your conversa- 
tion in the bathing-room, the characters you there drew of 
the principal men at court, your artful malice in applying so 
improperly a scandalous song to one of the loveliest women 
m all England ; and in what manner the innocent girl fell 
into the snare you had laid for her, in order to do justice to 
her charms. But that which might be of the most fatal con- 
sequences to you in that long conversation, is the revealing 
certain secrets, which, in all probability, the duchess did not 



242 MEMOIRS OF 

intrust you with, to be imparted to the maids of honour : 
reflect upon this, and neglect not to make some reparation to 
Sir Charles Lyttleton, for the ridicule with which you were 
pleased to load him. I know not whether he had his infor- 
mation from your femme-de-chaYnhre^ but I am very certain 
that he has sworn he will be revenged, and he is a man that 
keeps his word ; for after all, that you may not be deceived 
by his look, like that of a Stoic, and his gravity, like that of 
a judge, I must acquaint you, that he is the most passionate 
man living. Indeed, these invectives are of the blackest and 
most horrible nature : he says it is most infamous, that a 
wretch like yourself should find no other employment than 
to blacken the characters of gentlemen to gratify your jea- 
lousy ; that if you do not desist from such conduct for the 
future, he will immediately complain of you ; and that if 
her royal highness will not do him justice, he is determined 
to do himself justice, and to run you through the body with 
his own sword, though you were even in the arms of Miss 
Temple ; and that it is most scandalous that all the maids of 
honour should get into your hands before they can look 
around them. 

" These things, madam, I thought it my duty to acquaint 
you with : you are better able to judge than myself, whether 
what I have now advanced be true, and I leave it to your 
own discretion to make what use you think proper of my 
advice ; but were I in your situation, I would endeavour to 
reconcile Lord Rochester and Miss Temple. Once more I 
recommend to you to take care that your endeavours to 
mislead her innocency, in order to blast his honour, may not 
come to his knowledge ; and do not estrange from her a man 
who tenderly loves her, and whose probity is so great, that 
he would not even suffer his eyes to wander towards liei^, 
if his intention was not to make her his wife." 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 243 

Miss Temple observed lier promise most faithfully during 
this discourse : she did not even utter a single syllable, being 
seized with such astonishment and confusion, that she quite 
lost the use of her tongue. 

Miss Hobart and Lord Rochester came up to her, while 
she was still in amazement at the wonderful discoveries she 
had made ; things in themselves, in her opinion, almost in- 
credible, but to the truth of which she could not refuse her 
assent, upon examining the evidences and circumstances on 
which they were founded. Never was confusion equal to 
that with which her whole frame was seized by the foregoing 
recital. 

Rochester and Killegrew took leave of them before she 
recovered from her surprise ; but as soon as she had regained 
the free use of her senses, she hastened back to St. James's, 
without answering a single question that the other put to 
her ; and having locked herself up in her chamber, the first 
thing she did was immediately to strip off Miss Hobart's 
clothes, lest she should be contaminated by them ; for after 
what she had been told concerning her, she looked upon her 
as a monster, dreadful to the innocence of the fair sex, of 
whatever sex she might be ; she blushed at the familiarities 
she had been drawn into with a creature, whose maid was 
with child, though she never had been in any other service 
but hers : she therefore returned her all her clothes, ordered 
her servant to bring back all her own, and resolved never 
more to have any connection with her. Miss Hobart, on 
the other hand, who supposed Killegrew had mistaken Miss 
Temple for herself, could not comprehend what could induce 
her to give herself such surprising airs, since that conversa- 
tion ; but being desirous to come to an explanation, she ordered 
Miss Temple's maid to remain in her apartments, and went 
to call upon Miss Temple herself, instead of .sending back 

R 2 



244 ME310iUS OF 

her clothes ; and being desirous to give her some proof of 
friendship before they entered upon expostulations, she slipt 
softly into her chamber, when she was in the very act of 
changing her linen, and embraced her. Miss Temple finding 
herself in her arms before she had taken notice of her, every 
thing that Killegrew had mentioned appeared to her ima- 
gination : she fancied that she saw in her looks the eagerness 
of a satyr, or, if possible, of some monster still more odious ; 
and disengaging herself with the highest indignation from 
her arms, she began to shriek and cry in the most terrible 
manner, calling both heaven and earth to her assistance. 

The first whom her cries raised were the governess and 
her niece. It was near twelve o'clock at night: Miss Temple 
in her shift, almost frightened to death, was pushing back 
with horror Miss Hobart, who approached her v/ith no other 
intent than to know the occasion of those transports. As 
soon as the governess saw this scene, she began to lecture 
Miss Hobart with all the eloquence of a real duenna : she 
demanded of her, whether she thought it was for her that 
her royal highness kept the maids of honour ? whether she 
was not ashamed to come at such an unseasonable time of 
night into their very apartments to commit such violences ? 
and swore that she would, the very next day, complain to 
the duchess. All this confirmed Miss Temple in her mis- 
taken notions; and Hobart was obliged to go away at last, 
without being able to convince or bring to reason creatures, 
whom she believed to be either distracted or mad. The next 
day Miss Sarah did not fail to relate this adventure to her 
lover, telling him how Miss Temple's cries had alarmed the 
maids of honour's apartment, and how herself and her aunt, 
running to her assistance, had almost surprised Miss Hobart 
in the very act. 

Two days after, the whole adventure, with the addition 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 245 

of several embellishments, was made public : the governess 
swore to the truth of it, and related in every company what 
a narrow escape Miss Temple had experienced, and that Miss 
Sarah, her niece, had preserved her honour, because, by Lord 
Rochester's excellent advice, she had forbiddeif her all manner 
of connection with so dangerous a person. Miss Temple was 
afterwards informed, that the song that had so greatly pro- 
voked her, alluded to Miss Price only : this was confirmed 
to her by every person, with additional execrations against 
Miss Hobart, for such a scandalous imposition. Such great 
coldness after so much familiarity, made many believe that 
this adventure was not altogether a fiction. 

This had been sufficient to have disgraced Miss Hobart at 
court, and to have totally ruined her reputation in London, 
had she not been, upon the present, as well as upon a former 
occasion, supported by the duchess : her royal highness pre- 
tended to treat the whole story as romantic and visionary, or 
as solely arising from private pique : she chid Miss Temple, 
for her impertinent credulity; turned away the governess 
and her niece, for the lies with which she pretended they 
supported the imposture ; and did many improper things in 
order to re-establish Miss Hobra't's honour, which, however., 
she failed in accomplishing. She had her reasons for not 
entirely abandoning her, as will appear in the sequel. 

Miss Temple, who continually reproached herself with in- 
justice, with respect to Lord Rochester, and who, upon the 
faith of Kiilegrew's word, thought him the most honourable 
man in England, was only solicitous to find out some oppor- 
tunity of easing her mind, by marking him some reparation 
for the rigour with which she had treated him : tliese favour- 
able dispositions, in the hands of a man of his character, 
might have led to consequences of which she was not aware : 



2 AG MEMOIRS 01<^ 

but heaven did not allow liim an opportunity of profiting by 
tliem. • 

Ever since lie had first appeared at court, he seldom failed 
being banished from it, at least once in the year ; for, when- 
ever a word presented itself to his pen, or to his tongue, ho 
immediately committed it to paper, or produced it in conver- 
sation, without any manner of regard to the consequences : 
the ministers, the mistresses, and even the king himself, were 
frequently the subjects of his sarcasms ; and had not the 
prince, whom he thus treated, been possessed of one of the 
most forgiving and gentle tempers, his first disgrace had cer- 
tainly been his last. 

Just at the time that Miss Temple was desirous of seeing 
him, in order to apologize for the uneasiness which the in- 
famous calumnies and black aspersions of Miss Hobart had 
occasioned both of them, he was forbid the court for the 
third time : he departed without having seen Miss Temple, 
carried the disgraced governess down with him to his country 
seat, and exerted all his endeavours to cultivate in her niece i 
some dispositions which she had for the stage ; but though she 
did not make the same improvement in this line as she had 
by his other instructions, after he had entertained both the 
niece and the aunt for some months in the country, he got her 
entered in the king's company of comedians the a^jxt winter ; 
and the public was obliged to him for the prettiest, but, at 
the same time, the worst actress in the kingdom. ^^^ 

About this time Talbot returned from Ireland : he soon 
felt the absence of Miss Hamilton, who was then in the 
country with a relation, whom we shall mention hereafter. 
A remnant of his former tenderness still subsisted in his 
heart, notwithstanding his absence, and the promises he had 
given the Chevalier de Grammont at parting : he now tbere- ; 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 247 

fore endeavoured to banisli lier entirely from liis tliouglits, by 
fixing his desires upon some other object : but he saw no 
one in the queen's new court whom he thought w^orthy of 
his attention : Miss Boynton,^^^ however, thought him worthy 
of hers. Her person was slender and delicate, to which r. 
good complexion, and large motionless eyes, gave at a dis- 
tance an appearance of beauty, that vanished upon nearer 
inspection : she affected to lisp, to languish, and to have two 
or three fainting-fits a day. The first time that Talbot 
cast his eyes upon her, she was seized with one of these fits : 
he was told that she swooned away upon his account : he 
believed it, was eager to afford her assistance ; and ever after 
that accident, shewed her some kindness, more w^ith the 
intention of saving her life, than to express any affection he 
felt for her. This seeming tenderness was well received, and 
at first she was visibly affected by it. Talbot w^as one of the 
tallest men in England, and in all appearance one of the 
most robust ; yet she shewed sufficiently, that she was willing 
to expose the delicacy of her constitution to whatever might 
happen, in order to become his wife ; which event perhaps 
might then have taken place, as it did afterwards, had not 
the charms of the fair Jennings, at that time, proved an 
obstacle to her washes. 

I know, not how it came to pass that he had not yet seen 
her ; though he had heard her much praised, and her prudence, 
wit, and vivacity, equally commended ; be believed all this 
upon the faith of common report. He thought it very 
singular that discretion and sprightliness should be so inti- 
mately united in a person so young, more particularly in the 
midst of a court, where love and gallantry were so much in 
fashion ; but he found her personal accomplishments greatly 
to exceed whatever fame had reported of them. 

As it was not long before he perceived he was in love. 



248 MEMOIRS OF 

neitlier was it long before lie made a declaratiou of it : as 
his passion was likely enough to be real, Miss Jennings 
thought she might believe him, without exposing herself to 
the imputation of vanity. Talbot was possessed of a fine 
and brilliant exterior, his manners were noble and majestic : 
besides this, he was particularly distinguished by the favour 
and friendship of the duke ; but his most , essential merit, 
with her, was his forty thousand pounds a year, landed pro- 
perty, besides his employments. All these qualities came 
within the rules and maxims she had resolved to follow with 
respect to lovers : thus, though he had not the satisfaction to 
obtain from hef. an , entire declaration of her sentiments, he 
had at least the pleasure of being- hotter received than those 
who had paid their addresses to her before him. 

No person attempted to interrupt his happiness ; and Miss 
Jennings perceiving that the duchess approved of Talbot's 
pretensions, and after having well weighed the matter, and 
consulted her own inclinations, found that her reason was 
more favourable to him than her heart, and that the most 
she could do for his satisfaction was to marry him v.dthout 
reluctance. 

Talbot, too fortunate in a preference which no man had 
before experienced, did not examine whether it was to her 
heart, or to her head, that he was indebted for it, and his 
thoughts were solely occupied in hastening the accomplish- 
ment of his wishes : one would have sworn that the happy 
minute was at hand ; but love would no longer be love, if he 
did not delight in obstructing, or in overturning, the happi- 
ness of those who live under his dominion. 

Talbot, who found nothing reprehensible either in the 
person, in the conversation, or in tLc reputation of Miss Jen- 
nings, was however rather concerned at a new acquaintance 
she had lately formed ; and having taken upon him to give her 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 249 

some cautions upon this subject, she was much displeased at 
his conduct. 

Miss Price, formerly maid of honour, that had been set 
aside, as we have before mentioned, upon her leaving the 
duchess's service, had recourse to Lady Castlemaine's protec- 
tion : she had a very entertaining wit : her complaisance 
was adapted to all humours, and her own humour was pos- 
sessed of a fund of gaiety and sprightliness, which diffused 
universal mirth and merriment wherever she came. Her 
acquaintance with Miss Jennings was prior to Talbot's. 

As she was thoroughly acquainted with all the intrigues of 
the court, she related them without any manner of reserve to 
Miss Jennings, and her own with the same frankness as the 
others : Miss Jennings was extremely well pleased with her 
stories ; for though she was determined to make no experiment 
in love, but upon honourable terms, she hov/ever was desirous 
of knowing from her recitals, all the different intrigues that 
'vrere carrying on : thus, as she was never wearied with her 
conversation, she was overjoyed whenever she could see her. 

Talbot, who remarked the extreme relish she had for Miss 
Price's company, thought that the reputation such a woman 
had in the world might prove injurious to his mistress, more 
especially from the particular intimacy there seemed to exist 
between them : whereupon, in the tone of a guardian, rather 
than a lover, he took upon him to chide her for the disrepu- 
table company she kept. Miss Jennings was haughty beyond 
conception, when once she took it into her head ; and as she 
liked Miss Price's conversation much better than Talbot's, she 
took the liberty of desiring him " to attend to his own affairs, 
and that if he only came from Ireland to read lectures about 
her conduct, he might take the trouble to go back as soon as 
he pleased." He was offended at a sally which he thought 
ill-timed, considering the situation of affairs between them : 



250 MEfVIOIRS OF 

and went out of licr presence more abruptly tliaa became the 
respect due from a man greatly in love. He for some time 
appeared oflended ; but perceiving tbat he gained nothing by 
such conduct, he grew weary of acting that part, and assumed 
that of an humble lover, in which he was equally unsuccessful: 
neither his repentance nor submissions could produce any ef- 
fect upon her, and the mutinous little gipsy was still in her 
pouts, when Jermyn returned to court. 

It was above a year since he had triumphed over the weak- 
ness of Lady Castlemaine, and above two since the king had 
been weary of his triumphs. His uncle, being one of the 
first who perceived the king's disgust, obliged him to absent 
himself from court, at the very time that orders were going 
to be issued for that purpose ; for though the king's afi*ections 
for Lady Castlemaine were now greatly diminished, jet he 
did not think it consistent with his dignity, that a mistress, 
whom he had honoured with public distinction, and who still 
received a considerable support from him, should appear 
chained to the car of the most ridiculous conqueror that ever 
existed. His majesty had frequently expostulated with the 
countess upon this subject ; but his expostulations were never 
attended to ; it was in one of these differences, that he, ad- 
vising her rather to bestow her favours upon Jacob Hall, the 
rope-dancer, who was able to return them, than lavish away 
her money upon Jermyn to no purpose, since it would be more i 
honourable for her to pass for the mistress of the first, than 
for the very humble servant of the other, she was not proof 
against his raillery. The impetuosity of her temper broke 
forth like lightning. She told him, " that it very ill became 
him to throw out such reproaches against one, who, of all the 
women in England, deserved them the least; that he had 
never ceased quarrelling thus unjustly with her, ever since he 
had betrayed his own mean low inclinations ; that to gratify 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 251 

sucli a depraved taste as his, lie wanted only sucli silly tilings 
as Stewart, Wells, and that pitiful strolling actress,^"^^ wliom 
he had lately introduced into their society." Floods of tears, 
from rage, generally attended these storms ; after wliich, re- 
saming the part of Medea, the scene closed with menaces of 
tearing her children in pieces, and setting his palace on fire. 
What course could he pursue with such an outrageous fury, 
who, beautiful as she was, resembled Medea less than her 
dragons, when she was thus enraged ! 

The indulgent monarch loved peace ; and as he seldom con- 
tended for it, on these occasions, without paying something to 
obtain it, he was obliged to be at great expense, in order to 
reconcile this last rupture : as they could not agree of them- 
selves, and both parties equally complained, the Chevalier de 
Grammont was chosen, by mutual consent, mediator of the 
treaty. The grievances and pretensions on each side were 
communicated to him, and what is very extraordinary, he 
managed so as to please them both. Here follow the articles 
of peace, which they agreed to : 

" That Lady Castlemaine should for ever abandon Jermyn ; 
that as a proof of her sincerit}^-, and the reality of his disgrace, 
she should consent to his being sent, for some time, into the 
country ; that she should not rail any more against Miss Wells, 
nor storm any more against Miss Stewart ; and this without 
any restraint on the king's behaviour towards her : that in 
consideration of these condescensions, his majesty should im- 
mediately give her the title of duchess, ^"^^ with all the honours 
and privileges thereunto belonging, and an addition to her 
pension, in order to enable her to support the dignity." 

As soon as this peace was proclaimed^ the political critics, 
who, in all nations, never fail to censure all state proceed- 
ings, pretended that the mediator of this treaty, beiug every 
day at play with Lady Castlemaine, and never losing, had, 



252 MEMOIKS OF 

for his own sake, insisted a little too strongly upon this last 
article. 

Some days after, she was created Duchess of Cleveland, 
and little Jermyn repaired to his country-seat : however, it 
was in his power to have returned in a fortnight; for the 
Chevalier do Grammont, having procured the king's permis- 
sion, carried it to the Earl of Saint Alban*s : this revived tie 
good old man ; but it was to little purpose he transmitted it 
to his nephew ; for whether he wished to make the London 
beauties deplore and lament his absence, or whether he wished 
them to declaim against the injustice of the age, or rail against 
the tyranny of the prince, he continued above half a year in 
the country, setting up for a little philosopher, under the eyes 
of the sportsmen in the neighbourhood, who regarded him as 
an extraordinary instance of the caprice of fortune. He 
thought the part he acted so glorious, that he would have con- 
tinued there much longer had he not heard of Miss Jennings : 
he did not, however, pay much attention to what his friends 
writ to him concerning her charms, being persuaded he had 
seen equally as great in others : what was related to him of 
her pride and resistance, appeared to him of far greater con- 
sequence ; and to subdue the last, he even looked upon as an 
action worthy of his prowess ; and quitting his retreat for this 
purpose, he arrived in London at the time that Talbot, who 
wa.s really in love, had qup.rrelled, in his opinion, so unjustly 
with Miss Jennings. 

She had heard Jermyn spoken of, as a hero in affairs of 
love and gallantry. Miss Price, in the recital of those of the 
Duchess of Cleveland, had often mentioned him, without in 
any respect diminishing the insignificancy with which fame 
insinuated he had conducted himself in those amorous 
encounters : she nevertheless had the greatest curiosity to see 
a man, whose entire person, she thought,, must be a moving 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 253 

trophy, and monument of the favours and freedoms of the fair 
sex. 

Thus Jermyn arrived at the right time to satisfy her 
curiosity by his presence ; and though his brilliancy appeared 
a little tarnished, by his residence in the country ; though 
his head was larger, and his legs more slender than usual, yet 
the giddy girl thought she had never seen any man so perfect ; 
and yielding to her destiny, she fell in love with him, a 
thousand times more unaccountably than all the others had 
done before her. Every body remarked this change of con- 
duct in her with surprise ; for they expected something more 
from the delicacy of a person, who, till this time, had behaved 
with so much propriety in all her actions. 

Jermyn was not in the least surprised at this conquest, 
though not a little proud of it ; for his heart had very soon 
as great a share in it as his vanity. Talbot, who saw with 
amazement the rapidity of this triumph, and the disgrace of 
his own defeat, was ready to die with jealousy and spite ; 
yet he thought it would be more to his credit to die, than to 
vent those passions unprofitably ; and shielding himself under 
a feigned indifference, he kept at a distance to view how far 
such an extravagant prepossession would proceed. 

In the mean time, Jermyn quietly enjoyed the happiness of 
seeing the inclinations of the prettiest and most extraordinary 
creature in England declared in his favour. The duchess, 
who had taken her under her protection, ever since she had 
declined placing herself under that of the duke, sounded 
Jermyn's intentions towards her, and was satisfied with the 
assurances she received from a man, whose probity infinitely 
exceeded his merit in love : he therefore *et all the court see 
that he was willing to marry her, thoiigli, at the same time, 
he did not appear particularly desir^^^as of hastening the con- 
summation. Every person now complimented Miss Jennings. 



254 MEMoir.s OF 

iipou Laying reduced to this situation the terror of husbands, 
and the plague of lovers : the court was in full expectation 
of this miracle, and Miss Jennings of a near approaching 
happy settlement ; but in this world one must have fortune 
in one's favour, before one can calculate with certainty upon 
happiness. 

The king did not use to let Lord Rochester remain so long 
in exile : he grew weary of it, and being displeased that he 
was forgotten, he posted up to London to wait till it might 
be his majesty's pleasure to recall him. 

He first took up his habitation in the city, among the 

capital tradesmen and rich merchants, where politeness indeed 

is not so much cultivated as at court ; but where pleasure, 

luxury, and abundance reign with less confusion, and more 

sincerity. His first design was only to be initiated into the 

mysteries of those fortunate and happy inhabitants ; that is to 

say, by changing his name and dress, to gain admittance to 

their feasts and entertainments ; and, as occasion offered, to 

those of their loving spouses : as he w^as able to adapt himself 

to all capacities and humours, he soon deeply insinuated 

himself into the esteem of the substantial wealthy aldermen, 

and into the affections of their more delicate, magnificent, and 

tender ladies : he made one in all their feasts, and at all their 

assemblies ; and, whilst in the company of the husbands he 

declaimed against the faults and mistakes of government, he 

joined their wives in railing against the profligacy of the 

court ladies, and in inveighing against the king's mistresses : 

he agreed with them, that the industrious poor were to pay 

for these cursed extravagances ; that the city beauties were 

not inferior to those of the other end of the town, and yet a 

sober husband in this quarter of the town was satisfied 

with one wife ; after which, to out-do their murmurings, 

he said, that he wondered Whitehall v/as not yet consumed by 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 255 

fire from heaven, since sucli rakes as Rochester, Killegrew, 
and Sidney were suffered there, who had the impudence 
to assert, that all the married men in the city were 
cuckolds, and all their wives painted. This conduct endeared 
him. so much to the cits, and made him so welcome at their 
clubs, that at last he grew sick of their cramming and endless 
invitations. 

But, instead of approaching nearer the court, he retreated 
into one of the most obscure corners of the city ; v/here, again 
changing both his name and his dress, in order to act a new 
part, he caused bills to be dispersed, giving notice, of " The 
recent arrival of a famous German doctor, who, by long 
application and experience, had found out wonderful secrets, 
and infallible remedies.'' ^^^ jj^g secrets consisted in knowing 
what was past, and foretelling what was to come, by the 
assistance of astrology : and the virtue of his remedies prin- 
cipally consisted in giving present relief to unfortunate young 
women in all manner of diseases, and all kinds of accidents 
incident to the fair sex, either from too unbounded charity 
to their neighbours, or too great indulgence to themselves. 

His first practice being confined to his neighbourhood, was 
not very considerable ; but his reputation soon extending to 
the other end of the town, there presently flocked to him the 
women attending on the court, next, the chambermaids of 
ladies of quality, who, upon the wonders they related con- 
cerning the German doctor, were soon followed by some of 
their mistresses. 

Among all the compositions of a ludicrous and satirical 
kind, there never existed any that could be compared to those 
of Lord Rochester, either for humour, fire, or wit ; but, of all 
his works, the most ingenious and Entertaining is that which 
contains a detail of the intrigues and adv^entures in which he 



256 MEMOIRS OF 

was engaged, while he professed medicine and astrology in 
the suburbs of London. 

The fair Jennings was very near getting a place in this 
collection ; but the adventure that prevented her from it, did 
not, however, conceal from the public her intention of paying 
a visit to the German doctor. 

The first chambermaids that consulted him were only those 
of the maids of honour ; who had numberless questions to 
ask, and not a few doubts to be resolved, both upon their own 
and their mistresses' accounts. Notwithstanding their dis- 
guise, he recognized some of them, particularly Miss Temple's 
and Miss Price's maids, and her whom Miss Hobart had 
lately discarded : these creatures all returned either filled with 
wonder and amazement, or petrified with terror and fear. 
Miss Temple's chambermaid deposed, that he assured her, 
she would have the smali-pox, and her mistress the great, 
within two months at farthest, if her aforesaid mistress did 
not guard against a man in woman's clothes. Miss Price's 
woman affirmed, that, without knowing her, and only look- 
ing in her hand, he told her at first sight, that, according to 
the course of the stars, he perceived that she was in the ser- 
vice of some good-natured lady, who had no other fault than 
loving wine and men. In short, every one of them, struck 
with some particular circumstance relating to their own pri- 
vate affairs, had either alarmed or diverted their mistresses 
with the account, not failing, according to custom, to embellish 
the truth, in order to enhance the wonder. 

Miss Price, relating these circumstances one day to her new 
friend, the devil immediately tempted her to go in person, 
and see what sort of a creature this new magician was. This 
enterprise was certainly very rash ; but nothing was too rash 
for Miss Jennings, who was of opinion that a woman might 



COUKT GHAMMONT 



despise appearances, provided slie was in reality virtuous. 
Miss Price was all compliance, and thus having fixed upon 
this glorious resolution, they only thought of the proper means 
of putting it into execution. 

It was very difficult for Miss Jennings to disguise herself, 
on account of her excessive fair and bright complexion, and 
of something particular in her air and manner; however, 
after having well considered the matter, the best disguise they 
could think of was to dress themselves like orange-girls. ^^'^ 
This was no sooner resolved upon, but it was put in execu- 
tion : they attired themselves alike, and, taking each a bas- 
ket of oranges under their arms, they embarked in a hackney- 
coach, and committed themselves to fortune, without any other 
escort than their own caprice and indiscretion. 

The duchess was gone to the play with her sister : Miss 
Jennings had excused herself under pretence of indisposition : 
she was overjoyed at the happy commencement of their ad- 
venture ; for they had disguised themselves, had crossed the 
park, and taken their hackney-coach at Whitehall-gate, with- 
out the least accident. They mutually congratulated each 
other upon it, and Miss Price taking a beginning so prosper- 
ous as a good omen of their success, asked her companion 
what they were to do at the fortune-teller's, and what they 
should propose to him. 

Miss Jennings told her, that, for hei part, curiosity was her 
principal inducement for going thither ; that, however, she 
was resolved to ask him, without naming any person, why a 
man, who was in love with a handsome young lady, was not 
urgent to marry her, since this was in his power to do, and 
by so doing he would have an opportunity of gratifying hie 
desires. Miss Price told her, smiling, that without going to 
the astrologer, nothing was more easy than to explain the 

s 



258 MEMOIRS OF 

enigma, as she herself liad almost given lier a solution of it, 
in the narrative of the Duchess of Cleveland's adventures. 

Having by this time nearly arrived at the play-house, Miss 
Price, after a moment's reflection, said, that since fortune 
favoured them, a fair opportunity was now offered to sig- 
nalize their courage, which was to go and sell oranges in the 
very play-house, in the sight of the duchess and the whole 
court. The proposal being worthy of the sentiments of the 
one, and of the vivacity of the other, they immediately 
alighted, paid off their hack, and, running through the midst 
of an immense number of coaches, with great difficulty they 
reached the play-hous3 door. Sidney, more handsome than 
the beautiful Adonis, and dressed more gay than usual, 
alighted just then from his coach : Miss Price went boldly up 
to him, as he was adjusting his curls ; but he was too much 
occupied with his own dear self, to attend to any thing else, 
and so passed on without deigning to give her an answer. 
Killegrew came next, and the fair Jennings, partly encouraged 
by the others pertness, advanced towards him, and offered 
him her basket, whilst Price, more used to the language, de- 
sired him to buy her fine oranges. " Not now," said he, 
looking at them with attention ; " but if thou wilt to-morrow 
morning bring this young girl to my lodgings, I will make it 
worth all the oranges in London to thee ;" and while he thus 
spoke to the one, he chucked the other under the chin, exa- 
mining her bosom. These familiarities making little Jennings 
forget the part she was acting, after having pushed him away 
with all the violence she was able, she told him with indig- 
nation, that it was very insolent to dare — " Ha ! ha !" said 
he, " here's a rarity indeed ! a young w — , who, the better to 
sell her goods, sets up for virtue and pretends innocence !" 
Price immediately perceived that nothing could be gained 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 259 

by continulug any longer m so dangerous a place ; and 
taking her companion under the arm, she dragged her away, 
while she was still in emotion, at the insult that had been 
offered to her. 

Miss Jennings, resolving to sell no more oranges on these 
terms, was tempted to return, without accomplishing the 
other adventure; but Price haying represented to her the 
disgrace of such cowardly behaviour, more particularly after 
having before manifested so much resolution, she consented 
to go and pay the astrologer a short visit, so as they might 
be enabled to regain the palace before the play was ended. 

They had one of the doctor s bills for a direction, but there 
was no occasion for it ; for the driver of the coach they had 
taken, told them he knew very well the place they wanted, 
for he had already carried above a hundred persons to the 
German doctor's : they were within half a street of his 
house, when fortune thought proper to play them a trick. 

Brounker^^ had dined by chance with a merchant in that 
part of the city, and just as he was going away, they ordered 
their coach to stop, as ill luck would have it, just opposite 
to him : two orange-girls in a hackney-coach, one of whom 
appeared to have a very pretty face, immediately drew his 
I attention ; besides, he had a natural curiosity for such 
I objects. 

Of all the men at court, he had the least regard for the 
I fair sex, and the least attention to their reputation : he was 
I not young, nor was his person agreeable ; however, with a 
I great deal of wit, he had a violent passion for women. He 
did himself justice respecting his own merit ; and, being per- 
suaded that he could only succeed with those who were de- 
sirous of having his money, he was at open war with all 
the rest. He had a little country-house four or five miles 
from London always well stocked with girls : in other 

s2 



2G0 MLMOIIxS OF 

respects he was a very honest man, and the best cliess-player 
ill England. 

Price, alarmed at being thus closely examined by the 
most dangerous enemy they could, encounter, turned her head 
the other way, bid her companion do the same, and told the 
coachman to drive on. Brounker followed them unperceived 
on foot; and the coach having stopped twenty or thirty 
yards farther up the street, they alighted. He was just 
behind them, and formed the same judgment of them, which 
a man much more charitable to the sex must unavoidably 
have done, concluding that Miss Jennings- ^was a young cour- 
tesan upon the look-out, and that Miss Price was the mother- 
abbess. He was, however, surprised to see them have much 
better shoes and stockings than women of that rank gene- 
rally wear, and that the little orange-girl, in getting out of 
a very high coach, shewed one of the handsomest legs he 
had ever seen; but as all this was no obstruction to his 
designs, he resolved to purchase her at any rate, in order to 
place her in his seraglio. 

He came up to them, as they were giving their baskets in 
guard to the coachman, with orders to wait for them exactly 
in that place. Brounker immediately pushed in between 
them : as soon as they saw him, they gave themselves up 
for lost ; but he, without taking the least notice of their sur- 
prise, took Price aside with one hand, and his purse with 
the other, and began immediately to enter upon business, 
but was astonished to perceive that she turned away her 
face, without either answering or looking at him : as this 
conduct appeared to him unnatural, he stared her full in the 
face, notwithstanding all her endeavours to prevent him : he 
did the same to the other ; and immediately recognized them, 
but determined to conceal his discovery. 

The old fox possessed a wonderful command of temper on 



COUNT GI?AMMONT. 231 

sucii occasions, and having teazed them a little longer, to 
remove all suspicions he quitted them, telling Price ; " that 
she was a great fool to refuse his offers, and that her girl 
would not, perhaps, get so much in a year, as she might with 
him in one day ; that the times were greatly changed, since 
the queen's and the duchess's maids of honour forestalled the 
market, and were to be had cheaper than the town ladies/' 
Upon this he went back to his coach, whilst they blessed 
themselves, returning heaven their most hearty thanks for 
having escaped this danger without being discovered. 

Brounker, on the other hand, would not have taken a 
thousand guineas for this rencounter; he blessed the Lord 
that he had not alarmed them to such a degree as to frustrate 
their intention; for he made no doubt but Miss Price had 
managed some intrigue for Miss Jennings : he therefore im- 
mediately concluded, that at present it would be improper to 
make known his discovery, which would have answered no 
other end but to have overwhelmed them with confusion. 

Upon this account, although Jermyn was one of his best 
friends, he felt a secret joy in not having prevented his being 
made a cuckold, before his marriage ; and the apprehension . 
he was in of preserving him from that accident, was his sole 
reason for quitting them with the precautions afore-men- 
tioned. 

Whilst they were under these alarms, their coachman was 
engaged in a squabble with some blackguard boyj5, who had 
gathered round his coach in order to steal the oranges : from 
words they came to blows : the two nymphs saw the com- 
mencement of the fray as they were returning to the coach, 
after having abandoned the design of going to the fortune- 
teller's. Their coachman being a man of spirit, it was with 
great difficulty they could persuade him to leave their oranges 
to the mob, that they might get off without any farther dis- 



2G2 MEMOIRS OF 

turojMice : having llius regained their hack, after a. tnousand 
frights, and after having received an abundant share of the 
most low and infamous abuse applied to them during the 
fracas, they at length reached St. James's, vowing never more 
to go after fortune-tellers, through so many dangers, terrors, 
:ind alarms, as they had lately undergone. 

Brounker, who from the indifferent opinion he entertained 
of the fair sex, would have staked his life that Miss Jennings 
did not return from this expedition in the same condition she 
went, kept his thoughts, however, a profound secret ; since it 
would have afforded him the highest satisfaction to have seen 
the all-fortunate Jermyn marry a little street- walker, who pre- 
tended to pass for a pattern of chastity, that he might the 
day after his marriage congratulate him upon his virtuous 
spouse ; but heav^en was not disposed to afford him that 
satisfaction, as will appear in the sequel of these memoirs. 

Miss Hamilton was in the country, as we before mentioned, 
at a relation's : the Chevalier de Grammont bore this short 
absence of hers with great uneasiness, since she would not 
allow him permission to visit her there, upon any pretence 
wliatever ; but play, which was favourable to him, was no 
small relief to his extreme impatience. 

j\Iiss Hamilton, however, at last returned. Mrs. Weten- 
liall ^^^ (for that vras the name of her relation) would by all 
means wait upon her to London, in appearance outof polite- 
:!ess ; for ceremony, carried beyond all bearing, is the grand 
f'liaracteristic of country gentry : yet this mark of civility 
\' as only a pretence, to obtain a peevish husband's consent to 
liis wife's journey to town. Perhaps he would have done 
himself the honour of conducting Miss Hamilton up to Lon- 
don, had he not been emploj^ed in writing some remarks upon 
the ecclesiastical history, a work in which he had long been 
engaged : the ladies were more civil than to interrupt him in 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 263 

Lis undertaking, and besides it would entire!}^ Lave discon- 
certed all Mrs. WetenLall's scLemes. 

TLis lady was wLat may be properly called a beauty, en- 
tirely EnglisL, made up of lilies and roses, of snow and milk, 
as to colour ; and of wax, witL respect to tlie arms, Lands, 
neck, and feet ; but all tLis witLout eitLer animation or air : 
Ler face was uncommonly pretty ; but tLere was no variet^^, 
no cLange of countenance in it: one would Lave tLougLt, she 
took it in tLe morning out of a case, in order to put it up 
again at nigLt, witLout using it in tLe smallest degree in tLe 
daytime. WLat can I say of Ler ! nature Lad formed Ler 
a baby from Ler infancy, and a baby remained till deatL tLe 
fair Mrs. WetenLali. Her Lusband Lad been destined for tLe 
cLurcL ; but Lis elder brotLer dying just at tLe time Le Lad 
gone tLrougL Lis studies of divinity, instead of taking orders, 
Le came to England, and took to wife Miss Bedingfield, tLe 
lady of wLom we are now speaking. 

His person was not disagreeable, but Le Lad a serious con- 
templative air, very apt to occasion disgust : as for tLe rest, 
sLe migLt boast of Laving one of tLe greatest tLeologists in 
tLe kingdom for Ler Lusband : Le was all day poring over 
Lis books, and went to bed soon, in order to rise early ; so tLat 
Lis wife found Lim snoring wLen sLe came to bed, and wLen 
Le arose Le left Ler tLere sound asleep : Lis conversation at 
table would Lave been very brisk, if Mrs. WetenLali Lad been 
as great a proficient in divinity, or as great a lover of contro- 
versy as Le was ; but being neitlier learned in tLe former, 
nor desirous of tLe latter, silence reigned at tLeir table, as ah 
solutely as at a refectory. 

SLe Lad often expressed a great desire to see London ; but 
tLougL tliey were only distant a very sLort day's journey 
from it, sLe Lad never been able to satisfy Ler curiosity : it 
was not tLereforc witliout reason, tLat slie grew weary of tLe 



2G4 MEMOIRS OF 

life she was forced to lead at Peckliam.^-^^ The melancholy 
retired situation of the place was to her insupportable ; and 
as she had the folly, incident to many other women, of believ- 
ing sterility to be a kind of reproach, she was very much hurt 
to see that she might fall under that suspicion ; for she was 
persuaded, that although heaven had denied her children, she 
nevertheless had all the necessary requisites on her part, if it 
had been the will of the Lord. This had occasioned her 
to make some reflections, and then to reason upon those 
reflections; as for instance, that since her husband chose 
rather to devote himself to his studies, than to the duties of 
matrimony, to turn over musty old books, rather than attend 
to the attractions of beauty, and to gratify his own pleasures, 
rather than those of his wife, it might be permitted her to 
relieve some necessitous lover, in neighbourly charity, pro- 
vided she could do it conscientiously, and to direct her incli- 
nations in so just a manner, that the evil spirit should have no 
concern in it. Mr. "Wetenhall, a zealous partisan for the doc- 
trine of the casuists, would not perhaps have approved of these 
decisions ; but he was not consulted. 

The greatest misfortune was, that neither solitary Peck- 
ham, nor its sterile neighbourhood, presented any expedients, 
either for the execution of the afore-mentioned design, or for 
the relief of poor Mrs. Wetenhall : she was visibly pining 
away, when through fear of dying either with solitude or of 
want, she had recourse to Miss Hamilton's commiseration. 

Their first acquaintance was formed at Paris, whither Mr. 
"Wetenhall had taken his wife half a year after they were 
married, on a journey thither to buy books. Miss Hamilton, 
who from that very time greatly pitied her, consented to pass 
some time in the country with her, in hopes by that visit to 
deliver her, for a short time at least, out of her captivity ; 
vvlilch project succeeded according to her wish. 



COUNT GRAMMOXT. 265 

The Chevalier de Grammont, being informed of the day on 
which they were to arrive, borne on the wings of love and im- 
patience, had engaged George Hamilton to go with him, and 
meet them some miles out of London. The equipage he had 
prepared for the purpose corresponded with his usual magni- 
ficence ; and on such an occasion, we may reasonably suppose 
he had not neglected his person : however, with all his impa- 
tience, he checked the ardour of the coachman, through fear 
of accide'nts ; rightly judging that upon a road prudence is 
preferable to eagerness. The ladies at length appeared, and 
Miss Hamilton, being in his eyes ten or twelve times more 
handsome than before her departure from London, he would 
have purchased with his life so kind a reception as she gave 
her brother. 

Mrs. Wetenhall had her share of the praises, which at this 
interview were liberally bestowed upon her beauty, for which 
her beauty was very thankful to those who did it so much 
honour ; and as Hamilton regarded her with a tender atten- 
tion, she regarded Hamilton as a man very well qualified for- 
putting in execution the little projects she had concerted with 
her conscience. 

As soon as she was in London, her head was almost turned, 
through an excess of contentment and felicity : every thing 
appeared like enchantment to her in this superb city ; more 
particularly, as in Paris she had never seen any thing farther 
than the Hue Saint Jaques, and a few booksellers' shops : Miss 
Hamilton entertained her at her own house, and she was pre- 
sented, admired, and well received at both courts. 

The Chevalier de Grammont, whose gallantry and magni- 
ficence were inexhaustible, taking occasion, from this fair 
stranger's arrival, to exhibit his grandeur, nothing was to be 
seen but balls, concerts, plays, excursions by land and by wa- 
ter, splendid collations and sumptuous entertainments. Mrs. 



266 MEMOIRS OF 

TVetenhall was transported with pleasures, of whicli the great- 
est part were entirely new to her ; she was greatly delighted 
with all, except now and then at a play, when tragedy was 
acted, which she confessed she thought rather wearisome : she 
agreed, however, that the show was very interesting, when 
there were many people killed upon the stage, but thought the 
players were very fine handsome fellows, who were much 
better alive than dead. 

Hamilton, upon the wdiole, was pretty well treated by her, 
if a man in love, who is never satisfied until the completion 
of his wishes, could confine himself within the bounds of 
moderation and reason : he used all his endeavours to deter- 
mine her to put in execution the projects she had formed at 
Peckham: Mrs. "Wetenhall, on the other hand, was much 
pleased with him. This is the Hamilton ^^" who served in the 
French army with distinction : he was both agreeable and 
handsome. All imaginable opportunities conspired to favour 
the establishment of an intimacy, whose commencement had 
been so brisk, that in all probability it Vv^ould not languish for 
a conclusion ; but the more he pressed her to it, the more her 
resolution began to fail, and regard for some scruples, which 
she had not well weighed, kept her in suspense : there was 
reason to believe that a little perseverance would have removed 
these obstacles ; yet this at the present time was not attempted. 
Hamilton, not able to conceive what could prevent her from 
completing his happiness, since in his opinion the first and 
greatest difficulties of an amour were already overcome, with 
respect to the public, resolved to abandon her to her irresolu- 
tions, instead of endeavouring to conquer them by a more 
vigorous attack. It was not consistent with reason, to desist 
from an enterprise, where so many prospects of success pre- 
sented themselves, for such inconsiderable obstacles ; but he 
sUiTercd himself to be intoxicated with chimeras and visions^ 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 2G7 

vrliich unseasonably cooled the vigour of Lis pursuit, and led 
him astray in another unprofitable undertaking. 

I know not whether poor Wetenhall took the blame upon 
herself; but it is certain, she was extremely mortified upon 
it. Soon after, being obliged to return to her cabbages and 
turkeys at Peckham, she had almost gone distracted : that 
residence appeared a thousand times more dreadful to her, 
since she had been initiated into the amusements of London ; 
but as the queen was to set out within a month for Tunbridge 
Wells, she was obliged to yield to necessity, and return to the 
philosopher, "Wetenhall, with the consolation of having en- 
gaged Miss Hamilton to come and live at her house, which 
was within ten or twelve miles of Tunbridge, as long as the 
court remained there. 

Miss Hamilton promised not to abandon her in her retire- 
ment, and farther engaged to bring the Chevalier de Gram- 
mont along with her, whose humour and conversation extremely 
delighted her ; and the Chevalier de Grammont, who on all 
occasions started agreeable raillery, engaged on his part to 
bring George Hamilton, which words overwhelmed her with 
blushes. 

The court set out soon after to pass about two months in 
the place, ^^ of all Europe the most rural and simple, and yet, 
at the same time, the most entertaining and agreeable. 

Tunbridge is the same distance from London, that Fon- 
tainebleau is from Paris, and is, at the season, the general 
rendezvous of all the gay and handsome of both sexes. The 
company, though always numerous, is always select : since 
those who repair thither for diversion, ever exceed the num- 
ber of those who go thither for health, every thing there 
breathes mirth and pleasure : constraint is banished, familiarity 
is established upon the first acquaintance, and joy and plea- 
sure are the sole sovereigns of the place. 



268 MEMOIRS OF 

The company are accommodated with lodgings, in little, 
clean, and convenient habitations, that lie straggling and 
separated from each other, a mile and a half all around the 
Wells, where the company meet in the morning : this place 
consists of a long walk, shaded by spreading trees, under which 
they walk while they are drinking the waters : on one side 
of this walk is a long row of shops, plentifully stocked with 
all manner of toys, lace, gloves, stockings, and where there 
is raffling, as at Paris, in the Foire de Saint Germain : on the 
other side of the walk is the market : and, as it is the 
custom here for every person to buy their own provisions, 
care is taken that nothing offensive appears on the stalls. 
Here young, fair, fresh-coloured country girls, with clean 
linen, small straw hats, and neat shoes and stockings, sell 
game, vegetables, flowers, and fruit : here one may live as 
well as one pleases : here is, likewise, deep play, and no 
want of amorous intrigues. As soon as the evening comes, 
€very one quits his little palace to assemble on the bowling- 
green, where, in the open air, those who choose dance upon 
n turf more soft and smooth than the finest carpet in the 
world. 

Lord Muskerryi^^ had, within two or three short miles of 
Tun bridge, a very handsome seat called Summer-hill : ^^^ Miss 
Hamilton, after having spent eight or ten days at Peckham, 
could not excuse herself from passing the remainder of the 
season at his house ; and, having obtained leave of Mr. 
TTetenhall, that his lady should accompany her, they left 
the melancholy residence of Peckham, and its tiresome 
master, and fixed their little court at Summer-hill. 

They went every day to court, or the court came to 
them. The queen even surpassed her usual attentions in 
inventing and supporting entertainments : she endeavoured 
to increase the natural ease and freedom of Tunbridge, by 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 261) 

dispensing with, ratlier than requiring, tHosc ceremonies tliat 
were due to her presence ; and, confining in the bottom of 
her heart that grief and uneasiness she could not overcome, 
she saw Miss Stewart triumphantly possess the affections of 
the king without manifesting the least uneasiness. 

Never did love see his empire in a more flourishing con- 
dition than on this spot : those who were smitten before they 
came to it, felt a mighty augmentation of their flame ; and 
those who seemed the least susceptible of love, laid aside 
their natural ferocity, to act in a new character. For the 
truth of the latter, we shall only relate the change which 
soon appeared in the conduct of Prince Rupert. ^^^ 

He was brave and courageous, even to rashness ; but cross- 
grained and incorrigibly obstinate : his genius was fertile in 
mathematical experiments, and he possessed some knowledge 
of chemistry : he was polite even to excess, unseasonably ; 
but haughty, and even brutal, when he ought to have been 
gentle and courteous : he v/as tall, and his manners were un- 
gracious : he had a dry hard-favoured \isage, and a stern 
look, even when he wished to please; but, when he was out 
of humour, he was the true picture of reproof. 

The queen had sent for the players, either that there 
might be no intermission in the diversions of the place, or, 
perhaps, to retort upon Miss Stewart, by the presence of Nell 
Gwyn, part of the uneasiness she felt from hers : Prince 
Rupert found charms in the person of another player, called 
Hughes, ^^'^ who brought down, and greatly subdued his 
natural fierceness. From this time, adieu alembics, crucibles, 
furnaces, and all the black furniture of the forges : a com- 
plete farewell to all mathematical instruments and chemical 
speculations : sweet powder and essences were now the only 
ingredients that occupied any share of his attention. The 
impertinent gipsy chose to be attacked in form ; and proudly 



-70 jMEMOiiis or 

refusing money, that, in the end, she might sell her favoars 
at a dearer rate, she caused the poor prince to act a part so 
unnatural, that he no longer appeared like the same person. 
The king was greatly pleased with this event, for which 
great rejoicings were made at Tunbridge ; but nobody was 
bold enough to make it the subject of satire, though the same 
constraint was not observed with other ridiculous personages. 
There was dancing every day at the queen s apartments, 
because the physicians recommended it, and no person thought 
it amiss ; for even those who cared least for it, chose that exer- 
cise to digest the waters rather than walking. Lord Muskerry 
thought himself secure against his lady's rage for dancing; 
for, although he was ashamed of it, the princess of Babylon 
was, by the grace of God, six or seven months advanced in 
pregnancy; and, to complete her misfortune, the child had 
fallen all on one side, so that even Euclid would have been 
puzzled to say what her figure was. The disconsolate lady 
seeing Miss Hamilton and Mrs. Wetenhall set out every 
morning, sometimes on horseback, and sometimes in a coach, 
but ever attended by a gallant troop to conduct them to 
court, and to convey them back, she fancied a thousand times 
more delights at Tunbridge than in reality there were, and 
she did not cease, in her imagination, to dance over at 
Summer-hill all the country dances which she thought had 
been danced at Tunbridge. She could no longer support the 
racking torments which disturbed her mind, when relenting 
heaven, out of pity to her pains and sufferings, caused Lord 
Muskerry to repair to London, and kept him there two whole 
days : as soon as ever he had turned his back, the Babylonian 
princess declared her resolution to make a trip to court. 

She had a domestic chaplain who did not want sense, and 
Lord Muskerry, for fear of accidents, had recommended her 
to the wholesome counsels and good prayers of this prudent 



COUNT GRAMMOrvT. 2/1 

divine ; but in vain were all his preacliings and exhortations 
to stay at home ; in vain did he set before her eyes her hus- 
band's commands, and the dangers to which she would expose 
herself in her present condition ; he likewise added, that her 
pregnancy being a particular blessing from heaven, she ought 
therefore to be so much the more careful for its preservation. 
since it cost her husband, perhaps, more trouble than she was 
aware of, to obtain it. These remonstrances were altogether 
ineffectual : Miss Hamilton, and her cousin Wetenhall, 
having the complaisance to confirm her in her resolution, 
they assisted in dressing her the next morning, and set out 
along with her : all their skill and dexterity were requi- 
site to reduce her shape into some kind of symmetry ; but, 
having at last pinned a small cushion under her petticoat on 
the right side, to counteract the untoward appearance the 
little infant occasioned, by throwing itself on the left, they 
almost split their sides with laughter, assuring her at the 
same time that she looked perfectly charming. 

As soon as she appeared, it was generally believed that 
she had dressed herself in a farthingale, in order to make hei 
court to the queen; but every person was pleased at her 
arrival : those who were unacquainted with the circumstances, 
assured her in earnest that she was pregnant with twins ; and 
the queen, who envied her condition, notwithstanding the 
ridiculous appearance she then made, being made acquainted 
with the motive of her journey, was determined to gratify 
her inclinations. 

As soon as the hour for country-dances arrived, her cousin 
Hamilton was appointed her partner: she made some faint 
excuses at first, on account of the inconvenient situation she 
was then in ; but soon suffered them to be overcome, in order, 
as she said, to shew her duty to the queen ; and never did a 
woman in this world enjoy such complete satisfaction. 



27 2 MEMOIRS OF 

We have already observed, that the greatest prosperity is 
liable to the greatest change : Lady Muskerry, trussed up as 
she was, seemed to feel no manner of uneasiness from the 
motion in dancing ; on the contrary, being only apprehensive 
of the presence of her husband, which would have destroyed 
all her happiness, she danced with uncommon briskness, lest 
her ill stars should bring him back before she had fully satis- 
fied herself with it. In the midst, therefore, of her capering 
in this indiscreet manner, her cushion came loose without her 
perceiving it, and fell to the ground, in the very middle oi 
the first round. The Duke of Buckingham, who watched 
her, took it up instantly, wrapped it up in his coat, and, 
mimicking the cries of a new-born infant, he went about 
inquiring for a nurse for the young Muskerry among the 
maids of honour. 

This buflfoonery, joined to the strange figure of the poor 
lady, had almost thrown Miss Stewart into hysterics; for 
the princess of Babylon, after this accident, was quite flat on 
one side, and immoderately protuberant on the other. All those, 
who had before suppressed their inclinations to laugh, now 
gave themselves free scope, when they saw that Miss Stewart 
was ready to split her sides. The poor lady was greatly dis- 
concerted : every person was oflScious to console her ; but 
the queen, who inwardly laughed more heartily than any, 
pretended to disapprove of their taking such liberties. 

Whilst Miss Hamilton and Mrs. Wetenhall endeavoured to 
refit Lady Muskerry in another room, the Duke of Bucking- 
ham told the king, that, if the physicians would permit a 
little exercise immediately after a delivery, the best way to 
recover Lady Muskerry was to renew the dance as soon as 
ever her infant was replaced : this advice was approved, and 
accordingly put in execution. The queen proposed, as soon 
as she appeared, a second round of country-dances ; and Lady 



COL^'T GRAMMONT. 2,3 

Muskerry accepting tbe offer, the remedy Lad its desired 
effect, and entirely removed every remembrance of her late 
mishap. 

Whilst these things were passing at the king's court, that 
of the Duke of York took a journey on the other side of 
London : the pretence of this journey was to visit the county 
whose name he bore ; but love was the real motive. ^^^ The 
duchess, since her elevation, had conducted herself with such 
prudence and circumspection, as could not be sufficiently 
admired : such were her manners, and such the general esti- 
mation in which she was held, that she appeared to have 
found out the secret of pleasing every one ; a secret yet more 
rare than the grandeur to which she had been raised : but, 
after having gained universal esteem, she was desirous of 
being more particularly beloved ; or, more properly speaking, 
malicious Cupid assaulted her heart, in spite of the discretion, 
prudence, and reason with which she had fortified it. 

In vain had she said to herself a hundred times, that, if 
the duke had been so kind as to do her justice by falling in 
love with her, he had done her too much honour by making 
her his wife ; that, with respect to his inconstant disposition, 
which estranged him from her, she ought to bear it with 
patience, until it pleased heaven to produce a change in his 
conduct ; that the frailties on his part, which might to her 
appear injurious, would never justify in her the least devia- 
tion from her duty; and, as resentment was still less allow- 
able, she ought to endeavour to regain him by a conduct 
entirely opposite to his own. In vain was it, as we have 
said before, that she had long resisted Love and his emissa- 
ries by the help of these maxims : how solid soever reason, 
and however obstinate wisdom and virtue may be, there are 
yet certain attacks which tire by their length, and, in the 
end, subdue both reason and virtue itself. 

T 



274, MEMOIRS OF 

The Dacbess of York was one of the highest feeders in 
England : as this was an unforbidden pleasure, she indulged 
herself in it, as an indemnification for other self-denials. It 
was really an edifying sight to see her at table. The duke, 
on the contrary, being incessantly in the hurry of new fan- 
cies, exhausted himself by his inconstancy, and was gradually 
wasting away ; whilst the poor princess, gratifying her good 
appetite, grew so fat and plump, that it was a blessing to 
see her. It is not easy to determine how long things would 
have continued in this situation, if Lore, who was resolved 
to have satisfaction for her late conduct, so opposite to the 
former, had not employed artifice, as well as force, to disturb 
her repose. 

He at first let loose upon her resentment and jealousy, 
two mortal enemies to all tranquillity and happiness. A 
tall creature, pale-faced, and nothing but skin and bone, 
named Churchill, ^^ whom she had taken for a maid of 
honour, became the object of her jealousy, because she was 
then the object of the duke's afiection. The court was not 
able to comprehend how, after having been in love with 
Lady Chesterfield, Miss Hamilton, and Miss Jennings, he 
could have any inclination for such a creature ; but they soon 
perceived that something more than unaccountable, variety 
had a great share in effecting this conquest. 

The duchess beheld with indignation a choice which seemed 
to debase her own merit in a much greater degree than any 
i>( the former; at the very instant that indignation and jea- 
lousy began to provoke her spleen, perfidious Cupid threw 
in the way of her passions and resentments the amiable, 
handsome Sidney ; and, whilst he kept her eyes fixed upon 
his personal perfections, diverted her attention from perceiv- 
ing the deficiency of his mental accomplishments: she was 
wounded before she was aware of her danger; but the good 



COUNT GIIAMMONT. 27 O 

opinion Sidney had of his own merit did not suffer him long 
to be ignorant of such a glorious conquest ; and, in order 
more effectually to secure it, his eyes rashly answered every 
thing which those of her royal highness had the kindness to 
tell him, whilst his personal accomplishments were carefully 
heightened by all the advantages of dress and show. 

The duchess, foreseeing the consequences of such an en- 
gagement, strongly combated the inclination that hurried her 
away ; but Miss Hobart, siding with that inclination, argued 
the matter with her scruples, and, in the end, really van- 
quished them. This girl had insinuated herself into her royal 
highness's confidence by a fund of news with which she was 
provided the whole year round : the court and the city sup- 
plied her ; nor was it very material to her whether her stories 
were true or false, her chief care being that they should prove 
agreeable to her mistress : she knew, likewise, how to gratify 
her palate, and constantly provided a variety of those dishes 
and liquors which she liked best. These qualifications had 
rendered her necessary ; but, desirous of being still more so, 
and having perceived both the airs that Sidney gave himself, 
and what was passing in the heart of her mistress, the cunning 
Hobart took the liberty of telling her ro^^al highness, that this 
unfortunate youth was pining away solely on her account ; 
that it was a thousand pities a man of his figure should lose 
the respect for her which was most certainly her due, merely 
because she had reduced him to such a state, that he could no 
longer preserve it ; that he was gradually dying away on her 
account in the sight of the whole court; that his situation 
would soon be generally remarked, except she made use of 
! the proper means to prevent it ; that, in her opinion, her 
j royal highness ought to pity the miserable situation into 
which her charms had reduced him, and to endeavour to alle- 
viate his pain in some way or other. The duchess asked her 
I T 2 

f 



27 G MEMOIIIS OF 

^vllat slie meant by " endeavouring to alleviate his pain in 
.^ome Avay or other." " I mean, Madam," answered Miss 
Hobart, ^' that, if either his person be disagreeable, or his pas- 
sion troublesome, you ^yill give him his discharge ; or, if you 
choose to retain him in your service, as all the princesses in 
the world would do in your place, you will permit me to give 
him directions from you for his future conduct, mixed with a 
few grains of hope, to prevent his entirely losing his senses, 
until you find a proper occasion yourself to acquaint him with 
your wishes." '' What ! " said the duchess, " would you ad- 
vise me, Hobart, you, who really love me, to engage in an 
affair of this nature, at the expense of my honour, and the 
hazard of a thousand inconveniences? If such frailties are 
sometimes excusable, they certainly are not so in the high 
station in which I am placed : and it would be an ill requital, 
on my part, for his goodness, who raised me to the rank I 

now fill, to" ''All this is very fine," interrupted Miss 

Hobart ; " but, is it not very well known, that he only mar- 
ried you because he was importuned so to do ? Since that I 
refer to yourself, whether he has ever restrained his incli- 
nation a single moment, giving you the most convincing 
proofs of the change that has taken place in his heart, by a 
thousand provoking infidelities ? Is it still your intention to 
persevere in a state of indolence and humility, whilst the 
duke, after having received the favours, or suffered the re- 
pulses of all the coquettes in England, pays his addresses to 
the maids of honour, one after the other, and at present places 
liis whole ambition and desires in the conquest of that ugly 
skeleton, Churchill ? What ! Madam, must then your prime 
of life be spent in a sort of widowhood, in deploring your mis- 
fortunes, without ever being permitted to make use of any 
remedy tliat may offer ? A woman must be endowed with 
insuperable patience, or with an inexhaustible degree of resig- 



COUNT GRAMMOXT. Zi i 

nation, to bear this. Can a Imsband, who disregards you 
both night and day, really suppose, because his wife eats and 
drinks heartily, as, God be thanked, your royal highness 
does, that she wants nothing else than to sleep well too ? 
Faith, such conduct is too bad : I therefore once more repeat, 
that there is not a princess in the universe who would refuse 
the homage of a man like Sidney, when a husband pays his 
addresses elsewhere." 

These reasons were certainly not morally good ; but had 
they been still worse, the duchess would have yielded to them, 
so much did her heart act in concert with Miss Hobart, to 
OA'erthrow her discretion and prudence. 

This intrigue began at the very time that Miss Hobart 
advised Miss Temple not to give any encouragement to the 
addresses of the handsome Sidney. As for him, no sooner 
was he informed, by the confidant Hobart, that the goddess 
accepted his adoration, than he immediately began to be par- 
ticularly reserved and circumspect in his behaviour, in order 
to divert the attention of the public ; but the public is not so 
easily deceived 'as some people imagine. 

As there were too many spies, too many inquisitive people, 
and critics, in a numerous court, residing in the midst of a 
populous city, the duchess, to avoid exposing the inclinations 
of her heart to the scrutiny of so many inquisitor?, engaged 
the Duke of York to undertake the journey before mentioned, 
whilst the queen and her court were at Tunbridge. 

This conduct was prudent ; and, if agreeable to her, was 
far from displeasing to any of her court, except Miss Jen- 
nings : Jermyn was not of the party ; and, in her opinion, 
every party was insipid in which he was not one of the com- 
pany. He had engaged himself in an enterprise above his 
strength, in laying a wager, which the Chevalier de Grammont 
had laid before, and lost : he betted five hundred guineas, that 



278 MEMOIRS OP 

he would ride twenty miles in one hour upon the same horse 
in the high road. The day he had fixed upon for this race 
was the very same in which Miss Jennings went to the for- 
tune-teller's. 

Jermyn was more fortunate than her in this undertaking. 
He came off victorious ; but as his courage had far exceeded 
the strength of his constitution, in this exertion to win the 
wager, he got a violent fever into the bargain, which brought 
him very low. Miss Jennings inquired after his health ; but 
that was all she dared to do. In modern romances, a princess 
need only pay a visit to some hero, abandoned by his physi- 
cians, a perfect cure would be wrought in three days ; but 
since Miss Jennings had not been the cause of Jermyn's fever, 
she was not certain of relieving him from it, although she had 
been sure that a charitable visit would not have been censured 
in a malicious court. Without therefore paying any attention 
to the uneasiness she might feel upon the occasion, the court 
set out without him. She had, however, the gratification to 
testify her ill-humour throughout the whole journey, by ap- 
pearing displeased with every thing which seemed to afford 
satisfaction to all the rest of the company. 

Talbot made one of the company ; and flattering himself, 
that the absence of a dangerous rival might produce some 
change in his favour, he was attentive to all the actions, mo- 
tions, and even gestures, of his former mistress. There was 
certainly enough fully to employ his attention. It "was con- 
trary to her disposition to remain long in a serious humour. 
Iler natural vivacity hurried her away, from being seemingly 
lost in thought, into sallies of wit, which afforded him hopes 
that she would soon forget Jermyn, and remember that his own 
passion was the first she had encouraged. However, he kept 
his distance, notwithstanding his love and his hopes, being of 
opinion, that it ill became an injured lover to betray either the 



COUNT GliAMMONT. 279 

least weakness, or the smallest return of affection, for an 
ungrateful mistress, who had deserted him. 

Miss Jennings was so far from thinking of his resentments, 
that she did not even recollect he had ever paid his addresses 
to her ; and her thoughts being wholly occupied upon the poor 
sick man, she conducted herself towards Talbot, as if they 
never had had any thing to say to each other It was to him 
that she most usually gave her hand, either in getting into or 
out of the coach ; she conversed more readily with him than 
any other person, and, without intending it, did every thing 
to make the court believe she was cured of her passion for 
Jermyn in favour of her former lover. 

Of this he seemed likewise convinced, as well as the rest ; 
and thinking it now proper to act another part, in order to let 
her know that his sentiments with respect to her were still the 
same, he had resolved to address her in the most tender and 
affectionate manner upon this subject. Fortune seemed to 
have favoured him, and to have smoothed the way for his 
intended harangue : he was alone with her in her chamber ; 
and, what was still better, she was rallying him concerning 
Miss Boynton ; saying, " that they were undoubtedly much 
obliged to him, for attending them on their journey, whilst 
poor Miss Boynton had fainting-fits at Tunbridge, at least 
twice every day, for love of him." Upon this discourse, Tal- 
bot thought it right to begin the recital of his sufferings and 
fidelity, when Miss Temple, with a paper in her hand, entered 
the room. This was a letter in verse, which Lord Rochester 
had written some time before, upon the intrigues of the two 
courts; wherein, upon the subject of Miss Jennings, he said: 
" that Talbot had struck terror among the people of God, by 
his gigantic stature ; but that Jermyn, like a little David, had 
vanquished the great Goliath." Jennings, delighted with this 
allusion, read it over two or three times, thought it more en- 



280 MEMOJllS OP 

tertaining than Talbot's conversation, at first heartily lauglieJ 
at it, but soon after, with a tender air, " poor little David 1 " 
said she, with a deep sigh, and turning her head on one side 
during this short reverie, she shed a few tears, which assuredly 
did not flow for the defeat of the giant. This stung Talbot to 
the quick ; and, seeing himself so ridiculously deceived in his 
hopes, he went abruptly out of the room, vowing never to 
think any more of a giddy girl, whose coiwluct was regulated 
neither by sense nor reason ; but he did not keep his resolution. 

The other votaries of love, who were numerous in this 
court, were more successful, the journey being undertaken 
solely on that account. There were continual balls and 
entertainments upon the road ; hunting, and all other diver- 
sions, wherever the court halted in its progress. The tender 
lovers flattered themselves with the thought of being able to 
crown their happiness as they proceeded in their journey ; 
and the beauties who governed their destiny did not forbid 
them to hope. Sidney paid his court with wonderful assi- 
duity. The duchess made the duke take notice of his late 
perfect devotion to his service : his royal highness observed 
it, and agreed that he ought to be remembered upon the first 
opportunity, which happened soon after. 

Montagu, as before mentioned, was master of the horse to 
the duchess : he was possessed of a great deal of wit, had 
much penetration, and loved mischief. How could she bear 
such a man near her person, in the present situation of her 
heart ? This greatly embarrassed her ; but Montagu's elder 
brother ^^"^ having, very a-propos, got himself killed where he 
Iiad no business, the duke obtained for Montagu the post of 
master of the horse to the queen, which the deceased enjoyed ; 
and the handsome Sidney was appointed to succeed him in 
the same employment to the duchess. All this happened 
according to her wish ; and the duke was highly pleased that 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 281 

he had found means to promote the^e two gentlemen at once, 
without being at the least expense. 

Miss Hobart greatly applauded these promotions : she had 
frequent and long conversations with Sidney, which, being- 
remarked, some did her the honour to belie v^e it was upon her 
own account ; and the compliments that were made her upon 
the occasion she most willingly received. The duke, who 
believed it at lirst, observed to the duchess the unaccountable 
taste of certain persons, and how the handsomest young- 
fellow in England was infatuated with such a frightful 
creature. 

The duchess confessed that taste was very arbitrary ; the 
truth whereof he himself seemed to be convinced of, since he 
had fixed upon the beauteous Helen for his mistress. I know 
not whether this raillery caused him to reflect for what reasons 
he had made his choice ; but it is certain he began to cool in 
his affections for Miss Churchill ; and perhaps he would 
entirely have abandoned this pursuit, had not an accident 
taken place, which raised in him an entirely new inclination 
for her. 

The court having halted for a few days in a fine open 
country, the duchess was desirous of seeing a greyhound 
course. This diversion is practised in England upon large 
downs, where the turf, eaten by the sheep, is particularly 
green, and wonderfully even. She was in her coach, and all 
the ladies on horseback, every one of them being attended by 
her squire ; it therefore was but reasonable that the mistress 
should likewise have her squire. He accordingly was at the 
side of her coach, and seemed to compensate for his defi- 
ciencies in conversation, by the uncommon beauty of his 
mien and figure. 

The duke attended Miss Churchill, not for the sake of 
besieging her with soft flattering tales of love, but, on the 



282 :>iEMoiRs OF 

contrary, to chide her for sitting so ill on horseback. She 
was one of the most indolent creatures in the world ; and 
although the maids of honour are generally the worst mounted 
of the whole court, yet, in order to distinguish her, on account 
of the favour she enjoyed, they had given her a very pretty, 
though rather a high-spirited, horse ; a distinction she would 
very willingly have excused them. 

The embarrassment and fear she was under had added to 
her natural paleness. In this situation, her countenance had 
almost completed the duke's disgust, when her horse, desirous 
of keeping pace with the others, set off in a gallop, notwith- 
standing her greatest efforts to prevent it ; and her endeavours 
to hold him in, firing his mettle, he at length set off at full 
speed, as if he was running a race against the duke's horse. 

Miss Churchill lost her seat, screamed out, and fell from 
her horse. A fall in so quick a pace must have been violent; 
and yet it proved favourable to her in every respect ; for, 
without receiving any hurt, she gave the lie to all the unfa- 
vourable suppositions that had been formed of her person, in 
ludging from her face. The duke alighted, in order to help 
her. She was so greatly stunned, that her thoughts were 
otherwise employed than about decency on the present occa- 
sion ; and those who first crowded around her found her rather 
in a negligent posture. They could hardly believe that limbs 
of such exquisite beauty could belong to Miss Churchill's face. 
After this accident, it was remarked that the duke's tender- 
ness and affection for her increased every day ; and, towards 
the end of the winter, it appeared that she had not tyrannized 
over his passion, nor made him languish with impatience. 

The two courts returned to London much about the same 
time, equally satisfied with their respective excursions; though 
tlie queen was disappointed in the hopes she had entertained 
of tfhc good eft'ects of the Tunbridge waters. 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 283 

It was about tliis time that tlie Chevalier de Grammont 
received a letter from the Marchioness de Saint Chaumont, 
liis sister, acquainting him that he might return when he 
thought proper, the king having given him leave. He would 
have received this news with joy at any other time, whatever 
had been the charms of the English court ; but, in the present 
situation of bis heart, he could not resolve to quit it. 

He had returned from Tunbridge a thousand times deeper 
in love than ever ; for, during this agreeable excursion, he had 
every day seen Miss Hamilton, either in the marshes of me- 
lancholy Peckham, or in the delicious walks of cheerful Sum- 
merhill, or in the daily diversions and entertainments of the 
queen's court ; and whether he saw her on horseback, heard 
her conversation, or observed her in the dance, still he was 
persuaded that Heaven had never formed an object in every 
respect more worthy of the love, and more deserving of the 
affection, of a man of sense and delicacy. How then was it 
possible for him to bear the thoughts of leaving her ? This 
appeared to him absolutely impracticable ; however, as he was 
desirous of making a merit with her, of the determination he 
had made to neglect his fortune, rather than to be separated 
from her charms, he shewed her his sister's letter ; but this 
confidence had not the success he expected. 

Miss Hamilton, in the first place, congratulated him upon 
bis recall : she returned him many thanks for the sacrifice he 
intended to make her; but as this testimony of affection 
greatly exceeded the bounds of mere gallantry, however sen- 
sibly she might feel this mark of his tenderness, she was how- 
ever determined not to abuse it. In vain did he protest that 
he would rather meet death, than part from her irresistible 
charms ; and her irresistible charms protested that he should 
never see them more, unless he departed immediately. Thus 
was he forced to obey. However, he was allowed to flatter 



284 mi:moirs of 

himself, that these positive orders, how harsh soever they 
might appear, did not flow from indifference ; that she would 
always be more pleased with his return than with his depar- 
ture, for which she was now so urgent ; and having generously 
given him assurances that, so far as depended upon herself, he 
would find, upon his return, no variation in her sentiments 
during his absence, he took leave of his friends, thinking oi 
nothing but his return, at the very time he was makint: pre- 
parations for liis departure. 



COUIsT GRAMMO^'T, 28,1 



CHAPTER XL 

The nearer the Chevalier de Grammont approached the 
court of France, the more did he regret his absence from that 
of England; not but that he expected a gracious reception 
at the feet of his master, whose anger no one provoked with 
impunity ; but who likewise knew how to pardon, in such a 
manner as to make the favour he conferred in every respect 
to be felt. 

A thousand different thoughts occupied his mind upon the 
journey : sometimes he reflected upon the joy and satisfac- 
tion his friends and relations would experience upon his 
return ; sometimes upon the congratulations and embraces of 
those, who, being neither the one nor the other, would never- 
theless overwhelm him with impertinent compliments : all 
these ideas passed quickly through his head; for a man 
deeply in love makes it a scruple of conscience not to suffer 
any other thoughts to dwell upon his mind than those of the 
object beloved. It was then the tender, endearing remem- 
brance of what he had left in London that diverted his 
thoughts from Paris; and it was the torments of absence 
that prevented his feeling those of the bad roads and the 
bad horses. His heart protested to Miss Hamilton, between 
jMontreuil and Abbeville, that he only tore himself from her 
with such haste, to return the sooner; after which, by a 
short reflection, comparing the regret he had formerly felt 
upon the same road, in quitting France for England, with 
that which he now experienced, in quitting England for 



2S6 



MEMOIRS OP 



Fi-ance, lie found the last much more insupportable than the' 
former. 

It is thus that a man in love entertains himself upon the 
road; or rather, it is thus that a trifling writer abuses the I 
patience of his reader, either to display his own sentiments, 
or to lengthen out a tedious story; but God forbid that this 
character should apply to ourselves, since we profess to insert 
nothing in these memoirs but what we have heard from the 
mouth of him whose actions and sayings we transmit to 
posterity. 

Who, except Squire Feraulas, has ever been able to keep 
a register of all the thoughts, sighs, and exclamations of his 
illustrious master? For my own part, I should never have 
thought that the attention of the Count de Grammont, which 
is at present so sensible to inconveniences and dangers, 
would have ever permitted him to entertain amorous thou°ghts 
upon the road, if he did not himself dictate to me what I am 
now writing. 

But let us speak of him at Abbeville. The postmaster 
was his old acquaintance : his hotel was the best provided 
of any between Calais and Paris; and the Chevalier de 
Grammont, alighting, told Termes he would drink a glass 
of wine during the time they were changing horses. It was 
about noon; and, since the preceding night, when they had 
landed at Calais, until this instant, they had not eaten a single 
mouthful. Termes, praising the Lord, that natural feelings 
had for once prevailed over the inhumanity of his usual 
impatience, confirmed him as much as possible in such rea- 
sonable sentiments. 

Upon their entering the kitchen, where the Chevalier 
generally paid his first visit, they were surprised to see half 
a dozen spits loaded with game at the fire, and every other 
preparation for a magnificent entertainment. The heart of 



coujsr GKAMMor^T. 287 

Termes leaped for joj : he gave private orders to tlie hostler 
to pull the shoes off some of the horses, that he might not be 
forced away from this place before he had satisfied his crav- 
ing appetite. 

Soon after, a number of violins and hautboys, attended 
by all the mob of the town, entered the court. The landlord 
being asked the reason of these great preparations, acquainted 
the Chevalier de Grammont that they were for the wedding 
of one of the most wealthy gentlemen in the neighbourhood, 
with one of the handsomest girls in the whole province ; that 
the entertainment was to be at his house ; and that, if his 
lordship chose to stop, in a very short time he would see the 
new-married couple arrive from the church, since the music 
was already come. He was right in his conjectures; for 
these words were scarce out of his mouth, when three un- 
commonly large coaches, loaded witli lackeys, as tall as 
Swiss, with most gaudy liveries, all covered with lace, ap- 
peared in the court, and disembarked the whole wedding 
company. Never was country magnificence more naturally 
displayed: rusty tinsel, tarnished lace, striped silks, little 
eyes, and full swelling breasts, appeared on every side. 

If the first sight of the procession surprised the Chevalier 
de Grammont, faithful Termes was no less astonished at the 
second. The little that was to be seen of the bride's face 
appeared not without beauty; but no judgment could be 
formed of the remainder : four dozen of patches, at least, and 
ten ringlets of hair, on each side, most completely concealed 
her from all human eyes ; but it was the bridegroom who most 
particularly attracted the Chevalier de Grammont's attention. 
He was as ridiculously dressed as the rest of the company, 
except a coat of the greatest magnificence, and of the most 
exquisite taste. The Chevalier de Grammont, walking up to 
him to examine his dress, began to commend the embroidery 



288 MEMOIKS OF 

of his coat. The bridegroom thought himself much honoured 
by this examination, and told him he bought it for one hun- 
dred and fifty louis, at the time he was paying his addresses 
to his wife. " Then you did not get it made here ? " said the 
Chevalier de Grammont. " No," replied the other; " I bought 
it of a London merchant, who had ordered it for an Englisli 
lord." The Chevalier de Grammont, who now began to per- 
ceive in what manner the adventure would end, asked him if 
he should recollect the merchant if he saw him again ? " Re- 
collect him !" replied the other, " I surely ought ; for I was 
obliged to sit up drinking with him all night at Calais, as I 
was endeavouring to beat down the price." Termes had 
vanished out of sight as soon as ever this coat appeared, 
though he little supposed that the cursed bridegroom would 
have any conversation concerning it with liis master. 

The Chevalier's thoughts were some time wavering betwecp 
his inclination to laugh, and a desire of hanging Master 
Termes ; but the long habit of suffering himself to be robbed 
by his domestics, together with the vigilance of the criminal, 
whom his master could not reproach with having slept in his 
service, inclined him to clemency ; and yielding to the impor- 
tunities of the country gentleman, in order to confound his 
faithful servant, he sat down to table, to make the thirty- 
seventh of the company. 

A short time after, he desired one of the waiters to call for 
a gentleman whose name was Termes. He immediately ap- 
peared ; and as soon as the master of the feast saw him, he 
rose from table, and offering him his hand, " Welcome, my 
friend," said he ; " you see that I have taken good care of the 
coat which you sold me with so much reluctance, and that I 
have kept it for a good purpose." 

Termes, having put on a face of brass, pretended not to know 
liim, and pushed him back with some degree of rudeness. 



COUNT GKA.^iMONT. 2S9 

*' No, no," said the other, "ftince I was obliged to sit up witLi 
you the whole night, in order to strike the bargain, you shall 
pledge me in the bride's health/' The Chevalier de Gram- 
mont, who saw that Termes was disconcerted, notwith- 
standing his impudence, said to hira with a smile, " Come, 
come, my good London merchant, sit down, as you are so 
civilly invited : we are not so crowded at table but that there 
will be room enough for such an honest gentleman as your- 
self/' At these words five-and-thirty of the guests were in 
motion to receive this new visitor. The bride alone, out of an 
idea of decorum, remained seated ; and the audacious Termes, 
having swallowed the first shame of this adventure, began to 
lay about liim at such a rate, as if it had been his intention to 
swallow all the wine provided for the wedding, if his master 
had not risen from the table as they were taking off four- 
and-twenty soups, to serve up as many other dishes in their 
stead. 

The company were not so unreasonable as to desire a man 
who was in such haste to remain to the end of a wedding- 
dinner ; but they all got up when he arose from table, and all 
that he could obtain from the bridegroom was, that the com- 
pany should not attend him to the gate of the inn : as for 
Termes, he wished they had not quitted him till the end of 
their journey, so much did he dread being left alone with hib 
master. 

They had advanced some distance from Abbeville, and were 
proceeding on in the most profound silence, when TermcG, 
Vv^ho expected an end to it in a short time, was only solicitou.? 
in what manner it might happen, whether his master would 
attack him with a torrent of invectives, and certain epithets 
which were most justly his due, or whether, in an insulting 
ironical manner, he might make use of such commendations 
afi were most likely to confound him ; but finding, instead of 



290 MEMOIRS OP 

eitber, that ]ie remained in sullen silence, he thought it pru- 
dent rather to prev^ent the speech the Chevalier was medi- 
tating, than to suffer him to think longer about it ; and, accord- 
ingly, arming himself with all his effrontery, " You seem to 
be very angry. Sir,*' said he, " and I suppose you think you 
have reason for being so ; but the devil take me, if you are 
not mistaken in reality." 

" How 1 traitor ! in reality ?" said the Chevalier de Gram- 
mont : " it is then because I have not had thee well threshed, 
as thou hast for a long time merited." " Look ye. Sir," replied 
Termes, " you always run into a passion, instead of listening 
to reason 1 Yes, Sir, I maintain that what I did was for your 
benefit." " J^nd was not the quicksand likewise for my ser- 
vice?" said the Chevalier de Grammont. '' Have patience, 
if you please," pursued the other : '" I know not how that sim- 
pleton of a bridegroom happened to be at the custom-house 
when my portmanteau was examined at Calais ; but these silly 
cuckolds thrust in their noses everywhere. As soon as ever 
he saw your coat, he fell in love with it. I immediately per- 
ceived he was a fool ; for he fell down upon his knees, l)eseech- 
ing me to sell it him. Besides being greatly rumpled in the 
portmanteau, it was all stained in front by the sweat of the 
horses; I wonder how the devil he has managed to get it 
cleaned ; but, faith, I am the greatest scoundrel in the world, 
if you would ever have put it on. In a word, it cost you one 
hundred and forty louis d'ors, and seeing he offered me one 
hundred and fifty for it ; ' My master/ said I, ' has no occasion 
for this tinseled bauble to distingnisli him at the ball ; and, 
althcxigh ne was pretty full of cash when I left him, how know 
I in what situation he may be upon my return? there is no 
certainty at play.' To be brief, Sir, I got ten louis d'ors for 
It more than it cost you : this you see is all clear profit : I 
will be accountable to you for it, and you know that I am 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 291 

sufficiently substantial to make good sucli a sum. Confess 
now, do you think you would have appeared to greater ad- 
vantage at the ball, if you had been dressed out in that damned 
coat, which would have made you look just like the village 
bridegroom to whom we sold it ? and yet, how you stormed 
at London when you thought it lost ; what fine stories you 
told the king about the quicksand ; and how churlish you 
looked, when you first began to suppose that this country 
looby wore it at his wedding ! '' 

AVhat could the Chevalier reply to such uncommon impu- 
dence ? If he indulged his resentment, he must either have 
most severely bastinadoed him, or he must have discarded him, 
as the easiest escape the rogue could expect ; but he had occa- 
sion for liim during tlie remainder of his journey ; and, as soon 
as he was at Paris, he had occasion for him for his return. 

The Marechal de Grammont had no sooner notice of his 
arrival, than he went to him at the hotel ; and, the first em- 
braces being over on both sides; " Chevalier," said the Mare- 
chal, '^ how many days have you been in coming from London 
hither ? for God knows at what a rate you travel on such occa- 
sions." The Chevalier told him, he had been three days upon 
the road ; and, to excuse hiuTself for making no more haste, 
he related to him his Abbeville adventure. " It is a very 
entertaining one," said his brother ; *' but, what is yet more 
entertaining, is, that it will be your fault if you do not find 
your coat still at table ; for the country gentry are not accus- 
tomed to rise very soon from a wedding dinner." And then, 
in a very serious tone, told him, " he knew not who had ad- 
vised him to this unexpected return, which might probably 
ruin all his aff'airs; but he had orders from the king to bid 
him go back again without appearing at court. He told him 
afterwards that he was very much astonished at his impatience, 

u 2 



202 MEMOIRS or 

as, till this time, he had conducted himself uncommonly well, 
and was sufiicicntly acquainted with the king's temper to know, 
that the only way to merit his pardon was to wait until it 
freely came from his clemency/' 

The Chevalier, in justification of his conduct, produced 
Madame do Saint Chaumont's letter, and told the Marechal 
that he would very willingly have spared her the trouble of 
writing him such kind of news, to occasion him so useless a jour- 
ney. '' Still more indiscretion," replied his brother ; '' for, 
pray how long has our sister been either secretary of state, or 
minister, that she should be employed by the king to make 
known his majesty's order ? Do you wish to know the real 
state of the case ? Some time ago the king told Madame^^''^ 
how you had refused the pension the king of England offered 
you. He appeared pleased with the manner in which Com- 
minges had related to him the circumstances attending it, and 
said he was pleased with you for it. Madame interpreted 
this as an order for your recall ; and Madame de Saint Chau- 
mont being very far from possessing that wonderful discretion 
she imagines herself mistress of, she hastened to despatch to 
you this consequential order in her own hand. To conclude ; 
Madame said yesterday, when the king was at dinner, that 
you would very soon be here ; and the king, as soon as din- 
der was over, commanded me to send you back as soon as you 
arrived. Here you are; set off again immediately." 

This order might have appeared severe to the Chevalier de 
Grammont at any other time ; but, in the present state of his 
heart, he soon resolved upon obeying. Nothing gave him unea- 
siness, but the officious advice which had obliged him to leave 
the English court; and, being entirely unconcerned that he 
was not allowed to see the French court before his departure, 
he only desired the Marechal to obtain leave for him to stay 



COUNT GBAMMONT. 2 S3 

a few days to collect in some play debts which were owing 
Lim. This request was granted, on condition that he should 
not remain in Paris. 

He chose Vaugirard for his retreat. It was there that he 
had several aiiventures which he so often related in so hu- 
morous and diverting a manner, that it would be tedious to 
repeat them. There it was that he administered the sacra- 
ment in so solemn a manner, that, as there did not remain a 
sufficient number of Swiss at Versailles to guard the chapel, 
Vardes was obliged to acquaint the king that they were all 
gone to the Chevalier de Grammont, who was administering 
the g^acrament at Yaugirard. There likewise happened that 
wonderful adventure which threvyr the first slur upon the 
reputation of the great Saucourt, when, having a t^le-a^t^te 
v/ith the gardener s daughter, the horn, which was agreed upon 
as the signal to prevent surprises, was sounded so often, that 
the frequent alarms cooled the courage of the celebrated Sau- 
court, and rendered useless the assignation that was procured 
tor him with one of the prettiest girls in the neighbourhood. 
It was, likewise, during his stay at Yaugirard, that he paid a 
visit to Mademoiselle de THopital at Issy, to inquire into the 
truth of a report of an amour between her and a man of the 
long robe ; and it was there that, on his arriving unexpectedly, 
the President de Maisons was forced to take refuge in a closet, 
with so much precipitation, that half of his robe remained on 
the outside when he shut the door ; while the Chevalier de 
Orammont, who observed it, made his visit excessively long, 
in order to keep the two lovers upon the rack.. 

His business being settled, he set out for England on the 
wings of love. Termes redoubled his vigilance upon the road. 
The post-horses were ready in an instant at every stage. The 
winds and tides favoured his impatience; and he reached 
iiOndon with the highest satisfaction. The court was both 



294 MEMOIK? OF 



surprised and charmed at bis sudden return. No person con- 
doled with him upon his hite disappointment, which had occa- 
sioned him to come back, as he testified no manner of uneasiness 
concerning it himself. Nor was Miss Hamilton in the least 
displeased at his readiness in obeying the orders of the king 
his master. 

Notliing new had happened in the English court during his 
short absence ; but it assumed a different aspect soon after his 
return : I mean with respect to love and pleasure, which were 
the most serious concerns of the court during the greatest part 
of this gay reign. 

The Duke of Monmouth, '-'^ natural son to Charles the Se- 
cond, now made his first appearance in his father's court : his 
entrance upon the stage of the world was so brilliant, his am- 
bition had occasioned so many considerable events, and the par- 
ticulars of his tragical end are so recent, that it were needless 
to produce any other traits to give a sketch of his character. 
By the whole tenor of his life, he appeared to be rash in his 
undertakings, irresolute in the execution, and dejected in his 
misfortunes, in which, at least, an undaunted resolution ought 
to e(]ual the greatness of the attempt. 

His figure and the exterior graces of his person were such, 
that nature, ])erhaps, never formed any thing more comjVlete : 
his face was extremely handsome ; and yet it was a manly 
face, neither inanimate nor effeminate ; each feature having 
its beauty and peculiar delicacy: he had a w^onderful genius 
for every sort of exercise, an engaging aspect, and an air of 
grandeur : in a word, he possessed every personal advantage; 
but tiien, he was greatly deficient in mental accomplishments. 
He had no sentiments but such as -others inspired him with; 
and those who first insinuate*! themselves into his friendship 
took care to inspire him witli none but such as were pernicious. 
The astonishing beauty of his outward form caused universal 



1 



COUNT GKAMMONT. ZU^ 

admiration: those who before were Jooked upon as handsome, 
were now entirely forgotten at court ; and all the gay and 
beautiful of the fair gex were at his devotion. He was par- 
ticularly beloved by the king ; but the universal terror of hus- 
bands und lovers. This, however, did not long continue ; for 
nature not having endowed him with qualifications to secure 
the possession of the heart, the fair sex soon perceived Uie 
defect. 

The Duchess of Cl^^veland was out of humour with the 
king, because the children she had by his majesty were like so 
many little puppets, compared to this new Adonis : she was 
the more particularly hurt, as she might have boasted of being 
the queen of love, in comparison with the duke's mother. The 
king, however, laughed at her reproaches, as, for some time, 
she had certainly no right to make auy ; and, as this piece of 
jealousy appeared to be more ill-founded than any she had for- 
merly affected, no person approved of her ridiculous resent- 
ment. Not succeeding in this, she formed another scheme to 
give the king uneasiness : instead of opposing his extreme ten- 
derness for his son, she pretended to adopt him in her affection, 
by a thousand commendations and caresses, which she w^as 
daily and continually increasing. As these endearments were 
public, she imagined they could not be suspected ; but she was 
too well kiiown for her real design to be mistaken. The king 
was no longer jealous of her ; but, as the Duke ui Monmouth 
was of an age not to be insensible to the attractions ot a woman 
possessing so many charms, he thought it proper to withdraw 
him from this pretended motber-in-law, to preserve his inno- 
cence, or at least his fame, uncontaminated: it ^vas for this 
reason, thereforp, that the king married him so young. 

An heiress, of five thousand pounds a year, in Scotland, of- 
fered very a-propos :^^' her person was full of charms, and her 



20 G MEMOIRS OF 

mind possessed all tlioso perfections in wliicli the handsome 
Monmouth was deficient. 

New festivals and entertainments celebrated this marriage: 
the most cfTectual method to pay court to the king, was to 
outshine the rest in brilliancy and grandeur; and whilst these 
rejoicings brought forward all manner of gallantry and magni- 
ficence, they either revived old, or established new amours. 

The fair Stewart, then in the meridian of her glory, attracted 
all eyes, and commanded universal respect and admiration : 
the Duchess of Cleveland endeavoured to eclipse her at this 
fete^ by a load of jewels, and by all the artificial ornaments of 
<lress ; but it was in vain : her face looked rather thin and 
pale, from the commencement of a third or fourth pregnancy, 
which the king was still pleased to place to his own account ; 
and, as for the rest, her person could in no respect stand in com- 
petition with the grace and beauty of Miss Stewart. 

It was during this last effort of her charms, that she would 
have been queen of England, had the king been as free to give 
his hand as he was to surrender his heart ; for it was at this 
time that the Duke of Richmond took it into his head either 
to marry her, or to die in the attempt. 

A few months after the celebration of tlie Duke of Mon- 
mouth's nuptials, Killegrew,^^^ having nothing better to do, 
fell in love with Lady Shrewsbury ; and, as Lady Shrewsbury, 
by a very extraordinary chance, had no engagement at that 
time, their amour was soon established. No one thought of 
interrupting an intimacy which did not concern anyone; but 
Killegrew thought proper to disturb it himself: not that his 
happiness fell short of his expectation, nor did possession put 
him out of love with a situation so enviable; but he was 
amazed that he was not envied, and offended that his good for- 
tune raised him no rivals. 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 207 

He possessed a great deal of wit, and still more eloquence, 
which most particularly displayed itself when he was a little 
elevated with the juice of the grape : he then indulged himself 
in giving luxurious descriptions of Lady Shrewsbury's most 
secret charms and beauties, which above half the court weie as 
well acquainted with as himself. 

The Duke of Buckingham was one of those who could only 
judge from outward appearances ; and appearances, in his 
opinion, did not seem to promise any thing so exquisite as the 
extravagant praises of Kiilegrew would infer. As this indis- 
creet lover was a frequent guest at the Duke of Buckingham's 
table, he was continually employing his rhetoric on this sub- 
ject, and he had full opportunity for his harangues ; for they 
generally sat down to dinner at four o'clock, and only rose 
just in time for the play in the evening. 

The Duke of Buckingham, whose ears vrere continually 
deafened with descriptions of Lady Shrewsbury's merits, re- 
solved at last to examine into the truth of the matter him- 
self: as soon as he had made the experiment, he was satis- 
fied ; and, though he fancied that fame did not exceed the 
truth, yet this intrigue began in such a manner, that it was 
generally believed its duration would be short, considering 
the fickleness of both parties, and the vivacity with which 
they had engaged in it : nevertheless no amour in England 
ever continued so long. 

The imprudent Kiilegrew, who could not be satisfied with- 
out rivals, was obliged, in the end, to be satisfied without a 
mistress : this he bore very inipatiently ; but so far was 
Lady Shrewsbury from hearkening to, or afi'ording any re- 
dress for, the grievances at first complained of, that she pre- 
tended even not to know him. His spirit could not brook 
such treatment; and, without ever considering that he was 
the author of his own disgrace, he let loose all his abusive 



2\J'6 MEMOIRS OF 

eloquence agaliiot her ladyship : he attacked her with the 
most bitter invectives from head to foot: he drew a frightful 
picture of her conduct; and turned all her personal charms, 
which he used to extol, into defects. He was privately 
warned of the inconveniences to which these declamations 
might subject him, but despised the advice, and, persisting, 
he soon had reason to repent it. 

As he was returning one evening from the Duke of York's 
apartments at St. James's, three passes with a sword were 
made at him through his chair, one of which went entirely 
through his arm. Upon this, he v/as sensible of the danger 
to which his intemperate tongue had exposed him, over and 
above the loss of his mistress. The assassins made their 
escape across the Park, not doubting but they had despatched 
him. 

Killegrew thought that all complaints would be useless; 
for what redress from justice could he expect for an attempt 
of which his wounds were his only evidence ? And, besides, 
he v/as convinced that if he began a prosecution founded 
upon appearances and conjectures, the parties concerned 
would take the shortest and most effectual means to put a 
stop to all inquiries upon the subject, and that their second 
attempt would not prove ineffectual. Being desirous, there- 
fore, of deserving mercy from those who had endeavoured to 
assassinate him, he no longer continued his satires, and said 
not a word of the adventure. The Duke of Buckingham and 
Lady Shrewsbury remained for a long period both happy and 
contented :^^^ never before had her constancy been of so long 
a duration; nor had he ever been so submissive and respect- 
ful a lover. 

This continued until Lord Shrewsbury, who never before 
had shewn the least uneasiness at his lady's misconduct, 
thought proper to resent this : it was public enough, indeed, 



COUNT GKAMMONT. 299 

but less dishonourable to ber than any of her former in- 
trigues. Poor Lord Shrewsbury, too polite a man to make 
any reproaches to his wife, was resolved to have redress for 
his injured honour : he accordingly challenged the Duke of 
Buckingham ; and the Duke of Buckingham, as a reparation 
for his honour, having killed him upon the spot, remained a 
peaceable possessor of this famous Helen. The public Avas at 
first shocked at the transaction ; but the public grows fami- 
liar with every thing by habit, and by degrees both decency, 
and even virtue itself, are rendered tame, and overcome. 
The Queen was at the head of those who exclaimed against 
SO public and scandalous a crime, and against the impunity 
of such a wicked act. As the Duchess of Buckingham ^^^ 
was a short fat body, like her majesty, who never had had 
any children, and whom her husband had abandoned for 
another; this sort of parallel in their situations interested 
the queen in her favour ; but it was all in vain : no person 
paid any attention to them ; the licentiousness of the age 
went on uncontrolled, though the queen endeavoured to 
raise up the serious part of the nation, the politicians and 
devotees, as enemies against it. 

The fate of this princess was in many cases truly me- 
lancholy : the king, indeed, paid her every outward atten- 
tion ; but that was all : she easily perceived that the respect 
he entertained for her daily diminished, in proportion as the 
credit of her rivals increased: she saw that the king her hus- 
band was row totally indifferent about legitimate children, 
since his all-charming mistresses bore him others. As all 
the happiness of her life depended upon that blessing, and as 
she flattered herself tliat the king would prove kinder to her 
if Iieaven would vouchsafe to grant her desires, she had re 
course to all the celebrated secrets against sterility: pious 



oOO MEMOIRS OF 

VOWS, uine-day prayers, and offerings having been tried in | 
all manners, but all to no purjjose, she was at last obliged to 
return to natural means. 

What would she have given on this occasion for the ring 
which Archbishop Turpin wore on his finger, and which 
made Charlemagne run after him, in the same manner as it 
had made him run after one of his concubines, from whose 
finger Turpin had taken it after her death ! But it is now 
many years since the only talismans for creating love are 
the charms of the person beloved, and foreign enchantments 
have been looked upon as ineffectual. The queen's physi- 
cians, men of great prudence, sagacity, and v/isdom, as they 
always are, having duly weighed and considered that the 
cold waters of Tunbridge had not succeeded in the preceding 
year, concluded that it would be advisable for her to try the 
warm baths at Bristol : ^^^ this journey was therefore fixed 
for the next season ; and in the confidence of its proving 
effectual, this excursion would have afforded her much plea- 
sure, if the most dangerous of her rivals had not been one 
of the first that was appointed to attend the court. The 
Duchess of Cleveland being then near her time, there was 
no uneasiness on her account : the common rules of decency 
required a little attention. The public, it is true, was not 
either more or less acquainted with the circumstances of her 
situation, by the care which she now took to conceal it ; but 
her appearing at court in her present condition would have 
been too great an insult to the queen. Miss Stewart, more 
handsome than ever, was appointed for this excursion, and 
began to make magnificent preparations : the poor queen 
durst say nothing against it; but all hopes of success imme- 
diately forsook her. What could the baths, or the feeble- 
virtue of the waters, perform against charms that entirely 



coujiT grammo:hT. SOI 

counteracted their effects, either through the grief and un- 
easiness they occasioned her, or by their still more powerful 
consequences ? 

The Chevalier de Graramont, to whom all pleasures were 
insipid without the presence of Miss Hamilton, was yet un- 
able to excuse himself from attending the court. The king 
delighted too much in his sprightly conversation to leave hin? 
behind ; and hov/ever pleasing his company might have beeu 
in the solitude occasioned by the absence of the court, Mis^- 
Hamilton did not think it right to accept his offer of staying 
in town, because she was obliged to remain there : she how- 
ever granted him the permission of writing her an account of 
any news that might occur upon the journey. He failed not 
to make use of this permission, in such a manner as one may 
imagine ; and his own concerns took up so much space in his 
letters, that there was very little room left for other subjects 
during his stay at the baths. As absence from the object of 
his affections rendered this place insupportable, he engaged in 
every thing that might dissipate his impatience, until the 
happy moment of return arrived. 

He had a great esteem for the elder of the Hamiltons ; no 
less esteem, and far more friendship for his brother, whom he 
made the confidant of his passion and attachment for his sis- 
ter. The Chevalier was also acquainted with his first engage- 
ments with his cousin Wetenhall ; but being ignorant of the 
coldness that had interrupted a commerce so brisk in its com- 
mencement, he was surprised at the eagerness he shewed uj)ou 
all occasions to please Miss Stewart : his assiduity appeared 
to the Chevalier de Gramraont to exceed those civilities and 
attentions that are usually paid for the purpose of making 
court to the favourites of princes. He observed him more 
strictly, and soon perceived that he w^as deeper in love witli 
her than was consistent either with his fortune or his repose. 



1 



302 MEMOIIJS OP 

As scon as tlie remarks lie mafic had confirmed Inm in his 
suspicions, ho resolvxMl to use his endeavours to prevent the 
consequences of an engagement pernicious in every resj)ect ; 
but he waited for a proper opportunity of speaking to hiui 
upon the subject. 

In the mean time the court enjoyed every kind of diversion, 
in a place where amusement is sought with avidity. The 
game of bowls, which in France is the pastime of mechanics 
and servants only, is quite the contrary in England, where it 
is the exercise of gentlemen, and requires both art and ad- 
dress. It is only in use during the fair and dry part of the 
season, and the places where it is practised are charming, 
delicious walks, called bowling-greens, which are little square 
grass-plots, where the turf is almost as smooth and level as 
the cloth of a billiard-table. As soon as the heat of the day 
is over, all the company assemble there : they play deep, and 
spectators are at liberty to make what bets they please. 

The Chevalier de Grammont, long before initiated in the 
English games and diversions, had been engaged in a horse- 
race, in which he was indeed unsuccessful ; but he had the 
satisfaction of being convinced by experience, that an English 
horse can go twenty miles upon the high road in less than an 
hour : he was more fortunate at cock-fi'^htln<^ ; and in the bets 
he made at the bowling-green, the party he betted upon never 
failed to win. 

Near all th-ose places of diversion there is usually a sort 
of inn, or house of entertainment, with a bower or harbour, 
in which are sold all sorts of English liquors, such as cider, 
mead, bottled beer, and Spanish wines. Here the rooks ]neet 
every evening to drink, smoke, and to try their skill upon 
each other; or, in other words, to endeavour to trick one ano- 
ther out of the winnings of the day. These rooks are, pro- 
perly speaking, what we call capons^ or plqite'drs^ in France ; 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 803 

men wlio always carry money about them, to enable tbera to 
lend to losing gamesters, for which they receive a gratifica- 
tion, which is nothins: for such as play deep, as it is only two 
per cent, and the money to be repaid the next day. 

These gentlemen are so nice in their calculations, and so 
particularly skilful in all manner of games, that no person 
would dare to enter the lists with them, were they even as- 
sured that no unfairness would be practised : besides, they 
make a vow, to win four or five guineas a day, and to be 
satisfied with that gain ; a vow which they seldom or never 
])reak. 

It was in the midst of a company of these rooks, that Ha- 
milton found the Chevalier de Grammont, when he called in 
one evening to get a glass of cider. They were playing at 
hazard; and as he who holds the dice is supposed to have the 
advantage, the rooks did the Chevalier de Grammont that 
honour out of compliment : he had the dice in his hand when 
Hamilton came into the room. The rooks, secure of their 
odds, were betting against him at a high rate, and he took 
all. 

Hamilton could hardly believe his eyes, to see a man of his 
experience and knowledge engaged in so unequal a contest ; 
but it was to no purpose that he informed him of his danger, 
both aloud in French, and in private by signs; he still disre- 
garded his warning-s, and the dice, that bore Ca3sar and his 
fortunes, performed a miracle in his favour. The rooks were 
defeated for the first time, but not without bestowing upon 
him all the encomiums and praises of being a very fair and 
honourable plaver, which they never fail to lavish upon those 
whom they wish to engage a second time ; but all their com- 
mendations were lost, and their hopes deceived: the Chevalier 
was satisfied with the first experiment. 

Hamilton, when the king was at supper, related to him how 



304 MEMOIRS OF 

lie found the Chevalier de Granimont rashly engaged with the 
rooks, and in what manner he had been providentially pre- 
served. '^ Indeed, Sir/' said the Chevalier de Granimont, 
" the rooks were discomfited for once ;" and thereupon related 
the adventure to his majesty in his usual way, attracting the 
attention of all the company, to a circumstance, trifling in it- 
self, but rendered interesting by his humour. 

After supper, Miss Stewart, in whose apartment there was 
play, called Plamilton to her to tell the story. The Chevalier 
de Granimont, perceiving that she attended to him with plea- 
sure, was fully confirmed in the truth of his first conjectures ; 
and, having carried Hamilton home with him to supper, they 
began to discourse freely together as usual. " George," said 
the Chevalier de Grammont, " are you in any want of money? 
I know you love play; perhaps it may not be so favourable 
to you as it is to me : we are at a great distance from Lon- 
don. Here are two hundred guineas, take them, I beseech 
you, they will do to play with at Miss Stewart's." Hamilton, 
who little expected this conclusion, was rather disconcerted. 
'' How ! at Miss Stewart's ! " '' Yes, in her apartments, 
friend George," continued the Chevalier de Grammont ; "I 
have not yet lost my eyes : you are in love with her, and if I 
am not mistaken, she is not offended at it; but tell me how 
you could resolve to banish poor Wetenhall from your heart, 
and suffer yourself to be infatuated with a girl, who perhaps, 
after all, is not worth the other, and who, besides, whatever 
favourable dispositions she may have for you, will undoubt- 
edly, in the end prove your ruin. Faith, your brother and 
you are two pretty fellows, in your choice. What ! can you 
find no other beauties in all the court to fall in love with, ex- 
cept the king's two mistresses? As for the elder brother, I 
can pardon him : he only took Lady C?stlemaine, after his 
master had done with her, and after Lady Chesterfield had 



COUNT GKAMMONT. 305 

discarded lilm ; but, as for you, what the devil do you intend 
to do with a creature, on whom the king seems every day to 
doat with increasing fondness? Is it^ecause that drunken 
sot Richmond has again come forward, and now declares 
himself one of her professed admirers ? You will soon see 
what he will make by it : I have not forgotten what the king- 
said to me upon the subject. 

" Believe me, my dear friend, there is no playing tricks 
with our masters, I mean, there is no ogling their mistresses. 
I myself wanted to play the agreeable in France, with a little 
coquette, whom the king did not care about, and you know how 
deArly I paid for it. I confess she gives you fair play, but 
do not trust to her. All the sex feel an unspeakable satisfac- 
tion at having men in their train, whom they care not for, and 
to use them as their slaves of state, merely to swell their 
equipage. Would it not be a great deal better to pass a week 
or ten days incognito at Peckham with the philosopher Weten- 
halFs wife, than to have it inserted in the Dutch Gazette, — 
' We hear from Bristol, that such a one is banished the court 
on account of Miss Stewart, and that he is going to maJie a 
campaign in Guinea on board the fleet that is fitting out for 
the expedition under the command of Prince Rupert ?"'^^^ 

Hamilton, who was the more convinced of the truth of this 
discourse, the more he considered it, after musing some time, 
appeared to wake from a dream, and addressing himself with 
an air of gratitude to the Chevalier de Grammont : " Of all 
the men in the world, my dear friend," said he, "you have 
the most agreeable wit, and at the same time the clearest 
judgment with respect to your friends : what you have told 
me has opened my eyes : I began to suffer myself to be se- 
duced by the most ridieulous illasion imaginable, and to be 
hurried away rather by frivolous appearances, than any red 
inclination : to you I owe the obligation of having preserved 

X 



50 o MriMOIKS OF 

me from destruction at the very brink of a precipice. This 
is not the only kindness you have done me, your favours have 
been innumerable ; and, as a proof of my gratitude for this 
last, I will follow your advice, and go into retirement at my 
cousin Wetenhall's, to eradicate from my recollection every 
trace of those chimeras which lately possessed my brain ; but 
so far from going thither incognito, I will take you a.long with 
me, as soon as the court returns to London. My sister shall 
likewise be of the party ; for it is prudent to use all precau- 
tions with a man, who with a great deal of merit, on such 
occasions, is not over scrupulous, if we may credit your philo- 
sopher." " Do not pay any attention to that pedant,** replied 
the Chevalier de Grammont : " but tell me what put it into 
your head to form a design upon that inanimate statue, Miss 
Stewart ?" " How the devil should I know !*' said Hamilton : 
" you are acquainted with all her childish amusements. The 
old Lord Carlingford^^ was at her apartment one evening, 
shewing her how to hold a lighted wax-candle in her mouth, 
and the grand secret consisted in keeping the burning end 
there a long time without its being extinguished. I have, 
thank God, a pretty large mouth, and, in order to out-do her 
teacher, I took two candles into my mouth at the same time, 
and walked three times round the room without their going 
out. Every person present adjudged me the prize of this 
illustrious exj)eriment, and Killegrew maintained that nothing 
but a lantern could stand in competition with me. Upon 
this she was like to die with laughing; and thus was I ad- 
mitted into the familiarity of her amusements. It is impos- 
sible to deny her being one of the most charming creatures 
that ever was. Since the court has been in the country, I have 
had a hundred o])p()rtijnitics of se<^ing her, which I had not 
before. You know that the dishabille of the bath is a irreafc 
convenience for those ladies, who, strictly adhering to all tho 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 307 

rule.s of decorum, are yet desirous to display all their charms 
and attractions. Miss Stewart is so fully acquainted with the 
advantages she possesses over all other women, that it is hardly 
possible to praise any lady at court for a well-turned arm, and 
a fine leg, but she is ever ready to dispute the point by demon- 
stration ; and I really believe, that, witn a little address, it 
would not be difficult to induco her to strip naked, without 
(jver reflecting upon what she was doing. After all, a man 
must be very insensible to remain unconcerned and unmoved 
on such happy occasions; and besides, the good opinion we 
entertain of ourselves is apt to make us think a woman is smit- 
ten, as soon as she distinguishes us by habitual familiarity, 
which most commonly signifies nothing. This is the truth of 
the matter with respect to myself: my own presumption, her 
beauty, the brilliant station that sets it off, and a thousand kind 
things she had said to me, prevented me from making serious 
reflections ; but then, as some excuse for my folly, I must 
likewise tell you, that the facility I found in making her the 
tenderest declarations by commending her, and her telling me 
in confidence a thousand things which she ought not to have 
intrusted me with, might have deceived or infatuated any 
other man as well as myself. 

" I presented her with one of the prettiest horses in Eng- 
land. You know what peculiar grace and elegance distinguish 
her on horseback. The king, who, of all the diversions of the 
chase, likes none but hawking, because it is the most con- 
venient for the ladies, went out the other day to take this 
amusement, attended by all the beauties of his court His 
majesty having galloped after a falcon, and the whole bright 
squadron after him, the rustling of Miss Stewart's petticoats 
frightened her horse, which was at full speed, endeavouring 
to come up with mine, that had been his companion ; so that 
I was the only witness of a disorder in her clothes, which dis- 

X 2 



,308 ^i EM 01 us OF 

played a thousand new beauties to my view. I had the goo»l 
fortune to make such galhmt and flattering exclamations upon 
that charming disorder, as to prevent her being concerned or 
out of countenance upon it. On the contrary, this subject 
of my admiration has been frequently since the subject of our 
conversation, and did not seem to displease her. 

" Old Lord Carlingford, and that mad fellow Croftsi64 (for 
I must now make you my general confession), those insipid 
buffoons, were frequently telling her some diverting stories, 
which passed pretty ^veil with the help of a few old thread- 
bare jests, or some apish tricks in the recital, which made her 
laugh heartily. As for myself, who know no stories, and do 
not possess the talent of improving them by telling, if I did 
know any, I was often greatly embarrassed when she desired 
me to tell her one : ' I do not know one, indeed,' said I, one 
day, when she was teasing me on the subject. ^ Invent one, 
then,' said she. ' That would be still more difficult,' replied 
I ; ' but, if you will give me leave, madam, I will relate to 
you a very extraordinary dream, which has, however, less ap- 
pearance of truth in it than dreams generally have.' This 
excited her curiosity, v/hich would brook no denial. I, there- 
fore, began to tell her, that the most beautiful creature in the 
world, whom I loved to distraction, paid me a -visit in my 
sleep. I then drew her own portrait, with a rapturous de- 
scription of all her beauties ; adding, that this goddess, who 
came to visit me with the most favourable intentions, did not 
counteract them by any unreasonable cruelty. This was not 
sufticicnt to satisfy Miss Stewart's curiosity : I was obliged to 
relate every particular circumstance of the kindness I experi- 
enced from this delicate phantom ; to which she was so very 
attentive, that she never once appeared surprised or discon- 
r,erted at the luscious tale : on the contrary, she made me 
repeat tne description of the beauty, which I drew as near as 



COUNT GKAMMONT. 309 

possible after lier own person, and after such cliarms as I 
imagined of beauties that were unknown to nae. 

'' This is, in fact, the very thing that had almost deprived 
me of my senses : she knew very well that she herself was the 
person I was describing : we were alone, as you may imagine, 
when I told her this story ; and my eyes did their utmost to 
persuade her that it was herself whom I drew. I perceived 
that she was not in the least offended at knowing this ; nor was 
her modesty in the least alarmed at the relation of a fiction, 
which I might have concluded in a manner still less discreet, 
if I had thought proper. This patient audience made me plunge 
headlong into the ocean of flattering ideas that presented 
themselves to my imagination. I then no longer thought of 
the king, nor how passionately fond he was of her, nor of the 
dangers attendant upon such an engagement : in short, I kno^\' 
not what the devil I was thinking of; but I am very certain, 
that if you had not been thinking for me, I might have found 
my i uin in the midst of these distracted visions.'' 

Not long after, the court returned to London ; and from 
that time, some malevolent star having gained the ascendant, 
every thing went cross in the empire of love : vexation, sus- 
picions, or jealousies, first entered the field, to set all hearts at 
variance ; next, false reports, slander, and disputes completed 
tlie ruin of all. 

The Duchess of Cleveland had been brought to bed while the 
court was at Bristol ; and never before had she recovered from 
her lying-in with such a profusion of charms. This made her 
believe that she was in a proper state to retrieve her ancient 
rights over the king's heart, if she had an opportunity of ap- 
pearing before him with this increased splendour. Her friends- 
being of the same opinion, her equipage was prepared for this 
expedition ; but the very evening before the day she bad fixed 
on to set out, she saw young Churchill, ^^ and was at once 



olO MEMOinS OF 

seized with a disease, which had more than once opposed her 
projects, and which she could never completely get the better 
of. 

A man who, from an ensign in the guards, was raised to 
such a fortune, must certainly possess an uncommon share of 
prudence, not to be intoxicated with his happiness. Churchill 
boasted in all places of the new favour he had received : the 
Duchess of Cleveland, who neither recommended to him cir- 
cumspection in his behaviour, nor in his conversation, did not 
seem to be in the least concerned at his indiscretion. Thus 
this'intrigue was become a general topic in all companies, when 
the court arrived in London, and occasioned an immense num- 
ber of speculations and reasonings : some said she had already 
j^resented him with Jermyn's pension, and Jacob Hall's salary, 
because the merits and qualifications of both were united in 
his person : others maintained that he had too indolent an air, 
and too delicate a shape, long to maintain himself in her 
favour ; but all agreed, that a man who was the favourite of 
the king's mistress, and brother to the duke's favourite, was in 
a fair way of preferment, and could not fail to make his for- 
tune. As a proof, the Duke of York soon after gave him a 
place in his household : this was naturally to be expected : 
but the king, who did not think that Lady Cleveland's kind- 
ness to hiui was a sufficient recommendation to his favour, 
thought proper to forbid him the court. 

This good-natured king began now to be rather peevish ; 
nor was it altogether without reason : he disturbed no {)erson 
in their amours, and yet others had often the presumption to 
encroach upon his. Lord Dorset, first lord of the bed-cham- 
ber, hud lately debauched from his service Nell GwynJ^ the 
actress : Lady Cleveland, whom he now no longer regarded, 
continued to disgrace him by repeated infidelities with un- 
worthy rivals, and almost ruined him by the immense sums 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 311 

she lavished on her gallants ; but that which most sensibly 
affected him, was the late coldness and threats of Miss Stewart. 
He long since had offered her all the settlements and all the 
titles she could desire, until he had an opportunity more effec- 
tually to provide for her, which she had pretended only to 
decline, for fear of the scandal they might occasion, on her 
being raised to a rank which would attract the public notice ; 
but since the return of the court, she had given herself other 
airs. Sometimes she was for retiring from court, to appease 
the continual uneasiness her presence gave the queen : at other 
times, it was to avoid temptations, by which she wished to 
insinuate that her innocence was still preserved. In short, 
the king's heart was continually distracted by alarms, or 
oppressed by humour and caprice. 

As he could not for his life imagine what Miss Stewart 
wished him to do, or what she would be at, he thought upon 
reforming his establishment of mistresses, to try whether 
jealousy was not the real occasion of her uneasiness. It was 
for this reason, that, after having solemnly declared he would 
have nothing more to say to the Duchess of Cleveland, since 
her intrigue with Churchill, he discarded, without any excep- 
tion, all the other mistresses which he had in various parts of the 
town. The Nell Gwyns, the Miss Davis's,^^^ and the joyous 
train of singers and dancers in his majesty's theatre, were all 
dismissed. All these sacrifices were ineffectual : Miss Stewart 
continued to torment, and almost to drive the king to distrac- 
tion ; bat his majesty soon after found out the real cause of 
this coldness. 

This discovery was owing to the officious Duchess of Cleve- 
land, who, ever since her disgrace, had railed most bitterly 
against Miss Stewart as the cause of it, and against the king's 
weakness, who, for an inanimate idiot, had treated her with so 
much indignity. As some of her grace's creatures were still 



812 MEMOIRS OF 

ill the kiug's confideuce, by their means she was informed of 
the king's uneasiness, and that Miss Stewart's behaviour was 
the occasion of it ; and as soon as she had found the opportunity 
she had so long wished for, she went directly into the king's 
cabinet, through the apartment of one of his pages called Chif- 
linch.^^^ This way was not new to her. 

The king was just returned from visiting Miss Stewart, in a 
very ill humour : the presence of the Duchess of Cleveland 
surprised him, and did not in the least diminish it. She, per- 
ceiving this, accosted him in an ironical tone, and with a 
smile of indignation : " I hope," said she, " I may be allowed 
to pay you my homage, although the angelic Stewart has for- 
bid you to see me at my own house. I will not make use of 
reproaches and expostulations, which would disgrace myself: 
still less will I endeavour to excuse frailties which nothing can 
justify, since your constancy for me deprives me of all defence, 
considering I am the only person you have honoured with 
your tenderness, who has made herself unworthy of it by ill 
conduct. I come now, therefore, with no other intent than to 
comfort and to condole with you upon the affliction and grief 
into which the coldness, or new-fashioned chastity of the in- 
human Stewart has reduced your majesty." These words 
were attended by a fit of laughter, as unnatural and strained 
as it was insulting and immoderate, which completed the 
king's impatience : he had, indeed, expected that some bitter 
iest would follow this j^reamble ; but he did not suppose she 
would have given herself such blustering airs, considering the 
terms they were then upon ; and, as he was preparing to an- 
swer her, "Be not offended," said she, "that I take the li- 
berty of laughing at the gross manner in which you are imposed 
upon : I cannot bear to see that such particular affectation 
should make you the jest of your own court, and that you 
should be ridiculed with such impunity. I know that the 



COUNT GRAMMONT 813 

affected Stewart lias sent you away, under pretence of dome 
indisposition, or perhaps some scruple of conscience ; and I 
come to acquaint you that the Duke of Richmond will soon be 
with her, if he is not there already. I do not desire you to 
beliere what I say, since it might be suggested, either through 
resentment or envy : only follow me to her apartment, either 
that, no longer trusting calumny and malice, you may honour 
her with a just preference, if I accuse her falsely ; or, if my 
information be true, you may no longer be the dupe of a pre- 
tended prude, who makes you act so unbecoming and ridicu- 
lous a part/' 

As she ended this speech, she took him by the hand, while 
lie was yet undecided, and pulled him away towards her 
rivaFs apartments. Chiffinch being in her interest. Miss 
Stewart could have no warning of the visit ; and Babiani, who 
owed all to the Duchess of Cleveland, and who served her 
admirably well upon this occasion, came and told her that the 
Duke of Richmond had just gone into Miss Stewart's cham- 
ber. It was in the middle of a little gallery, which, through 
a private door, led from the king's apartments to those of his 
mistresses. The Duchess of Cleveland wished him good-night, 
as he entered her rival's chamber, and retired, in order to 
wait the success of the adventure, of which Babiani, who 
attended the kinj. ^as charged to Come and give her an 
account. 

It was near midnight : the king, in his way, met his mis- 
tress's chambermaids, who respectfully opposed his entrance, 
and, in a very low voice, whispered his majesty that Miss 
Stewart had been very ill since he left her; but that, being 
gone to bed, she v/as, God be thanked, in a very fine sleep. 
" That I must see," said the king, pushing her back, who 
had posted herself in his way. He found Miss Stewart in 
bed, indeed, but far from being asleep : the Duke of Rich- 



314 MEMOirxS OF 



i 



mond was seated at licr pillow, and in all probability was 
less inclined to sleep than herself. The perplexity of the 
one party, and the rage of the other, were such as may easily 
be imagined upon such a surprise. The king, who, of all 
men, was one of the most mild and gentle, testified his re- 
sentment to the Duke of Richmond in such terms as he had 
never before used. The duke was speechless, and almost 
petrified : he saw his master and his king justly irritated. 
The first transports which rage inspires on such occasions are 
dangerous : Miss Stewart's window was very convenient for 
a sudden revenge, the Thames flowing close beneath it : he 
cast his eyes upon it; and, seeing those of the king more 
incensed and fired with indignation than he thought his 
nature capable of, he made a profound bow, and retired, 
without replying a single word to the vast torrent of threats 
and menaces that were poured upon him. 

Miss Stewart, having a little recovered from her first sur- 
prise, ^^^ instead of justifying herself, began to talk in the 
most extravagant manner, and said every thing that was 
most capable to inflame the king's passion and resentment; 
that, if she were not allowed to receive visits from a man of 
the Duke of Richmond's rank, who came with honourable 
intentions, she was a slave in a free country ; that she knew 
of no engagement that could prevent her from disposing of 
her hand as she thought proper; but, however, if this was 
not permitted her in his dominions, she did not believe that 
there was any power on earth that could hinder her from 
going over to France, and throwing herself into a convent, 
to enjoy there that tranquillity which was denied her in his 
court. Tlie king, sometimes furious with anger, sometimes 
relenting at her tears, and sometimes terrified at her menaces, 
was so greatly agitated, that he knew not how to answer, 
either the nicety of a creature who wanted to act the part of 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 815 

Lucretia under his own eye, or the assurance with which she 
had the effrontery to reproach him. In this suspense, love 
had almost entirely vanquished all his resentments, and had 
nearly induced him to throw himself upon his knees, and 
entreat pardon for the injury he had done her, when she 
desired him to retire, and leave her in repose, at least for 
the remainder of that night, without offending those who had 
either accompanied him, or conducted him to her apartments, 
by a longer visit. This impertinent request provoked and 
irritated him to the highest degree : he went out abruptly, 
vowing never to see her more, and passed the most restless 
and uneasy night he had ever experienced since his restora- 
tion. 

The next day the Duke of Richmond received orders to 
quit the court, and never more to appear before the king; 
but it seems he had not waited for those orders, having set 
out early that morning for his country seat. 

Miss Stewart, in order to obviate all injurious construc- 
tions that might be put upon the adventure of the preceding 
night, went and threw herself at the queen's feet ; where, 
acting the new part of an innocent Magdalen, she entreated 
her majesty's forgiveness for all the sorrow and uneasiness 
she might have already occasioned her : she told her majesty 
that a constant and sincere repentance bad induced her to 
contrive all possible means i'or retiring from court ; that this 
reason had inclined her to receive the Duke of Richmond's 
addresses, who had courted her a long time; but since this 
courtship had caused his disgrace, and had likewise raised a 
vast noise and disturbance, which perhaps might be turned 
to the prejudice of her reputation, ^she conjured her majesty 
to take her under her protection, and endeavour to obtain 
the king's permission for her to retire into a convent, to re- 



t'MG MEMOIRS OP 

move at once all those vexations and troubles her presence 
liad innocently occasioned at court : all this was accompanied 
with a proper deluge of tears. 

It is a very agreeable spectacle to see a rival prostrate at 
our feet, entreating pardon, and at the same time justifying 
her conduct. The queen's heart not only relented, but she 
mingled her own tears with those of Miss Stewart: after 
having raised her up, and most tenderly embraced her, she 
promised her all manner of favour and protection, either in 
her marriage, or in any other course she thought fit to pursue, 
and parted from her with the firm resolution to exert all her 
interest in her support; but, being a person of great judg- 
ment, the reflections which she afterwards made induced her 
to change her opinion. 

She knew that the king's disposition was not capable of 
an obstinate constancy : she therefore judged that absence 
would cure him, or that a new engagement would by degrees 
entirely efface the remembrance of Miss Stewart : and that, 
since she could not avoid having a rival, it was more desir- 
able she sliould be one who had given such eminent proofs of 
her prudence and virtue. Besides, she flattered herself that 
the king would ever think himself eternally obliged to her, 
for having opposed the retreat and marriage of a girl, whom 
at that time he loved to distraction. This fine reasoning 
determined her conduct. All her industry was employed in 
persuading JMiss Stewart to abandon her schemes ; and what 
is most extraordinary in this adventure, is, that, after having 
prevailed upon her to think no more either of the Duke of 
liichmond, or of a nunnery, slie charged herself with the 
oflice of reconciling these two lovers. 

Indeed it would have been a thousand pities if her negotia- 
tion Lad miscarried : but slie did not suffer tliis misfortune; 



coui\'T gram:mont. 317 

for never were the king's addresses so eager and passioDate 
as after this peace, nor ever better received bj the fair 
Stewart. 

His majesty did not long enjoy the sweets of a reconcilia- 
tion which brought bim into the best good humour possible, as 
we shall see. All Europe was in a profound peace, since the 
treaty of the Pyrenees : Spain flattered herself she should be 
able to recruit, by means of the new alliance she had contracted 
with the most formidable of her neighbours ; but despaired of 
being able to support the shattered rem-ains of a declining mo- 
narchy, when she considered the age and infirmities of her 
prince, or the weakness of his successor : France, on the con- 
trary, governed by a king indefatigable in business, young, 
vigilant, and ambitious of glory, wanted nothing but inclina- 
tion to aggrandize herself. 

It was about this time, that the king of France, not willing 
to disturb the tranquillity of Europe, was persuaded to alarm 
the coasts of Africa, by an attempt, which if it had even been 
crowned with success, woukl have produced little good : but 
the king's fortune, ever faithful to his glory, has since made it 
appear, by the miscarriage of the expedition of Gigeri,^''^ that 
such projects only as were planned by himself were worthy of 
his attention. 

A short time after, the king of England, having resolved 
also to explore the African coasts, fitted out a squadron for an 
expedition to Guinea, which was to be commanded by Prince 
Hupert.^^^ Those who, from their own experience, had some 
knowledge of the country, related strange and wonderful sto- 
ries of the dangers attendant upon this expedition : that tbey 
would have to fight not only the inhabitants of Guinea, a hell- 
ish people, whose arrows were poisoned, and who never gave- 
their prisoners better quarter than to devour them, but that 
they must likewise endure heats that were insupportable, and 



318 MEMOIRS OF 

rains that were intolerable, every drop of which was changed 
into a serpent : that, if they penetrated farther into the coun- 
try, they would be assaulted by monsters a thousand times 
more hideous and destructive than all the beasts mentioned in 
the Revelations. 

But all these reports were vain and ineffectual : for so far 
from striking terror into those who were appointed to go upon 
this expedition, it rather acted as an incentive to glory, upon 
those who had no manner of business in it. Jermyn appeared 
among the foremost of those ; and, without reflecting that the. 
pretence of his indisposition had delayed the conclusion of his 
marriage with Miss Jennings, he asked the duke's permission 
and the king's consent to serve in it as a volunteer. , 

Some time before this, the infatuation which had imposed 
upon the fair Jennings in his favour, had begun to subside. 
All that now inclined her to this match were the adv-antages 
of a settlement. The careless indolence of a lover, who faintly 
paid his addresses to her, as it were, from custom or habit, dis- 
gusted her; and the resolution he had taken, without consult- 
ing her, appeared so ridiculous in him, and so injurious to lier- 
self, that, from that moment, she resolved to think no more of 
him. Her eyes being opened by degrees, she saw the fallacy 
of the splendour which had at first deceived her ; and the re- 
nowned Jermyn was received according to his real merit when 
he came to acquaint her with his heroical project. There ap- 
peared so much indifference and ease in the raillery with which 
she complimented him upon his voyage, that he was entirely 
disconcerted, and so much the more so, as he had prepared all 
the arguments he thought capable of consoling her, upon an- 
nouncing to her the fatal news of his departure. She told 
him " that nothing could be more glorious for him, who had 
triumphed over the liberty of so many persons in Europe, than 
to go and extend his conquests in other parts of the world ; 



COUNT GRAMMONT. 319 

and that she advised him to bring home with him all the female 
captives he might make in Africa, in order to replace those 
beauties whom his absence would bring to the grave." 

Jermyn was highly displeased that she should be capable of 
raillery in the condition he supposed her reduced to; but he 
soon perceived she was in earnest. She told him, that she 
considered this farewell visit as his last, and desired him not 
to think of making her any more before his departure. 
i ; Thus far every thing went well on her side. Jermyn was 
Hot only confounded at having received his discharge in so 
I cavalier a manner; but this very demonstration of her indif- 
ference had revived, and even redoubled, all the love and af- 
fection he had formerly felt for her. Thus she had both the 
' pleasure of despising him, and of seeing him more entangled 
in the chains of love than he had ever been before. This was 
not sufficient : she wished still farther, and very unadvisedly, 
\ to strain her resentment. 

' Ovid's Epistles,^72 translated into English verse by the great- 
est wits at court, having lately been published, she wrote a letter 
I from a shepherdess in despair, addressed to the perfidious Jer- 
; myn. She took the epistle of Ariadne to Theseus for her 
model. The beginning of this letter contained, word for word, 
I the complaints and reproaches of that injured fair to the cruel 
man by whom she had been abandoned. All this was pro- 
perly adapted to the present times and circumstances. It was 
Tier design to have closed this piece with a description of the 
toils, perils, and monsters that awaited him in Guinea, for 
which he quitted a tender mistress, who was plunged into the 
abyss of misery, and was overwhelmed with grief and de- 
spair; but not having had time to finish it, nor to get that 
which she had written, transcribed, in order to send it to him 
under a feigned name, she inconsiderately put this fragment, 
written in her own hand, into her pocket, and still more gid- 



rJ20 MEMOIRS OF 

tlily dropped it in the middle of the court. Those who took 
it up, knowing her writing, made several copies of it, which 
Avcre circulated all over the town ; but her former conduct had 
no well established the reputation of her virtue, that no per- 
son entertained the smallest doubt but the circumstances were 
exactly as we have related them. Some time after, the Gui- 
nea expedition was laid aside for reasons that are universally 
known, and Miss Jennings's subsequent proceedings fully jus- 
tified her letter ; for, notwithstanding all the efforts and atten- 
tions Jermyn practised to regain her aflfections, she would nevcF 
more hear of him. 

But he was not the only man wdio experienced the whim- 
sical fatality, that seemed to delight in disuniting hearts, in 
order to engage them soon after to different objects. One 
would have imagined, that the God of Love, actuated by some _ 
new caprice, had placed his empire under the dominion of I 
Hymen, and had, at the same time, blind- folded that god, iu 
order to cross-match most of the lovers whom we have hecii 
speaking of. 

The fair Stewart married the Duke of Richmond; the in- 
vincible Jermyn, a silly country girl ;^'^^ Lord Rochester a 
melancholy heiress ;^'^^ the sprightly Temple, the serious Lit- 
tleton ; Talbot, without knowing why or wherefore, took to 
wife the languishing Boynton;^^^ George Hamilton, under 
more favourable auspices, married the lovely Jennings ; and 
the Chevalier de Grammont, as the reward of a constancy he 
had never before known, and which he never afterwards prac- 
tised, found Hymen and Love united in his favour, and was 
at last blessed with the possession of Miss Hamilton. ^''^ 



NOTES 



AND 



ILLUSTEATIONS. 



NOTES 



I L li U S T R A T I N S. 



Note 1, Page 35. 
Bussi and Si, Evremoni, 

Voltaire, in the Age of Lewis XIV., ch. 24, speaking of tliat monarch, 
says, *' Even at the same time when he began to encourage genius by his 
liberality, the Count de Bussi was severely punished for the use he made 
of his : he was sent to the Bastile in 1664. The Amours of the 
Gauls was the pretence of his imprisonment ; but the true cause was the 
song in which the king was treated with too much freedom, and which, 
upon this occasion, was brought to remembrance, to ruin Bussi, the re- 
puted author < f it. 

" Qu3 Deodatus estheureux, 
De baiser ce bee amoreux, 
Qai d'une oreille a Tautre va ! 

** See Deodatus with his billing dear, 
Whose amorous mouth breathes love from ear to ear '. 

I *' His works were not good enough to compensate for the mischief they 
I did him. He spoke his own language with purity ; he had some merit, 
j but more conceit : and he made no use of the merit he had, but to make 
! himself enemies." Voltaire adds, — •' Bussi was released at the end of 
! eighteen months ; but he was in disgrace all the rest of his life, in vain 
protesting a regard for Lewis XIV.'' Bussi died 1693. Of St. Evre- 
; mont, see note, postea. 

Note 2, Page 36. 
I Louis XIIL 

Son and successor of Henry IV. He began to reign 14th May, 1610, 
I and died 14th May, 1643. 

Y 2 



i 



324 NOTES AM) 

Note 3, Page 36. 
Cardinal de Richelieu. 
Of this great minister Mr. Hume gives the following character :— 
" This man had no sooner, by suppleness and intrigue, gotten possession 
of the reins of government, than he formed at once three mighty projects 
—to subdue the turbulent spirit of the great ; to reduce the rebellious 
Hugonots ; and to curb the encroaching power of the house of Austria. 
Undaunted and implacable, prudent and active, he braved all the opposi- 
tion of the French princes and nobles in the prosecution of his vengeance; 
he discovered and dissipated all their secret cabals and conspiracies. His 
sovereign himself he held in subjection, while he exalted the throne. The 
people, while they lost their liberties, acquired, by means of his adminis- 
tration, learning, order, discipline, and renown. That confused and in- 
accurate genius of government, of which France partook in common with 
other European kingdoms, he changed into a simple monarchy, at the very 
time when the incapacity of Buckingham encouraged the free spirit of the 
Commons to estabUsh in England a regular system of liberty,"— (/Z^i^/or?/ 
of England, vol. iv. p. 232.) Cardinal Richelieu died 1642. 

Note 4, Page 36. 
Siege of Trino, 
Trino was taken 4th May, 1630. 

Note 5, Page 36. 
Prince Thomas 
Of Savoy, uncle of the reigning duke. He died 1656. 

Note 6, Page 37. 
As the post of Lieutenant- General was not then Anown. 
The author has here made a mistake ; for in the year 1638, while the 
Duke of Weimar was besieging Brisac, Cardinal Richelieu sent him two 
reinforcements, under the conduct of Turenne and the Count de Gue- 
briant, as Lieutenant -Generals, a rank till that time not known in France, 
— Memoires de Turenne. 

Note 7, Page 37. 

Du Plessls Praslin, 
Afterwards Marcchal and Duke de Choiseul. He retired from the ' 
army in 1672. Monsieur Henault, in his History of France, under that 
year, says, — *' Le Marcchal du Plessis ne fit pas cette campagne a cause 
de son grand age ; il dit au roi, qu'il portoit envie a ses enfans, qui ayoient 
Phonneur de servir sa majeste, que pour lui il souhaitoit la mort, puisqu'il 
n'etoit plus bon a rien ; le roi Tembrassa, et lui dit : M, le Marechal, on 
ne travaille que pour approcher de la reputation que vous avez acquise : 
il est aureahle de se reposcr apres tant de victoires.^* 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 325 

Note 8, Page 37. 
Viscount Turenne, 
This great general was killed July 27, 1675, by a cannot-shot, near the 
village of Saltzback, in going to choose a place whereon to erect a bat- 
tery. ** No one," says Voltaire, *' is ignorant of the circumstances of 
h\?> death ; but we cannot here refrain a review of the principal of them, 
for the same reason that they are still talked of every day. It seems as 
if one could not too often repeat, that the same bullet whicb killed him, 
having shot off the arm of St. Hilaire, lieutenant-general of the artillery, 
his son came and bewailed his misfortune with many tears ; but the father, 
looking towards Turenne, said, ' It is not I, but that great man, who 
should be lamented.' These words may be compared with the most heroic 
sayings recorded in all history, and are the best eulogy that can be be- 
stowed upon Turenne. It is uncommon, under a despotic government, 
where people are actuated only by their private interests, for those who 
have served their country to die regretted by the public. Nevertheless, 
Turenne was lamented both by the soldiers and people ; and Louvois was 
the only one who rejoiced at his death. The honours which the king or- 
dered to be paid to his memory are known to every one ; and that he was 
interred at St. Denis, in the same manner as the Constable du Guesclin, 
above whom he was elevated by the voice of the public, as much as the 
age of Turenne was superior to the age of the constable. 

*' Turenne had not always been successful in his wars ; he had been de- 
feated at Mariendal, Retel, and Cambray : he had also committed errors, 
and was himself so great a man as to confess them. He never made great 
and celebrated conquests, nor ever gained those great and important vic- 
tories, by which nations are subjected : but having always repaired his 
defeats, and done a great deal with a little, he was regarded as the first 
general in Europe, at a time when the art of war was more studied and 
laetter understood than ever. Moreover, though he was reproached for 
liis infidelity in the wars of the Fronde ; though, at the age of sixty years, 
love made him reveal the secrets of the state ; and though he had exer- 
cised cruelties in the Palatinate, w^hich did not appear necessary ; yet he 
had always the happiness to preserve the reputation of an honest, wise, 
and moderate man ; because his virtues and his great abilities, which were 
peculiar to himself, made those errors and weaknesses pardonable in him, 
which he had in common with the rest of mankind. If he can be com- 
pared to any one, we presume, that among all the generals of the pre- 
ceding ages, Gonzalvo de Cordova, surnamed the Great Captain, is the 
man whom he most resembles. *' — The Age of Louis XIV. ch. 11. 

In former editions, the quotation from Voltaire was yet longer. It is 
more germain to the present matter to observe, that it appears, from the 
jNIemoirs of St. Hilaire, where Voltaire found his anecdote, that Count 
Hamilton was present at the death of Turenne. Monsieur de Boze had 
twice sent to Turenne, to beg him to come to the place where the bat- 
tery was to be erected, which Turenne, as if by presentiment, declined. 
Count Hamilton brought the third anxious request from De Boze ; and 
in riding to the place where he was, Turenne received his death-blow. 



326 NOTES AND 

The horse of Montecuculi, the opposite general, was, m the course of the 
same day, killed by a cannon-shot. 

Note 9, Page 37. 
Of this number was Mafta, 

Matta, or Matha, of whom Hamilton has drawn so striking a pictuie, 
is said to have been of the house of Bourdeille, which had the honour to 
produce Brantome and Montresor. The combination of indolence and 
talent, of wit and simplicity, of bluntness and irony, with which he is 
represented, may have been derived from tradition, but could only have 
been united into the inimitable whole by the pen of Hamilton. Several 
of his bon mots have been preserved ; but the spirit evaporates in trans- 
lation. '* Where could I get this nose," said Madame D'Albret, observ- 
ing a slight tendency to a flush in that feature. *' At the sideboard, 
madam," answered Matta. When the same lady, in despair at her bro- 
ther's death, refused all nourishment, Matta administered this blunt con- 
solation : ** If you are resolved, madam, never again to swallow food, you 
do well ; but if ever you mean to eat upon any future occasion, believe 
me, you may as well begin just now." Madame Caylus, in her Souvenirs, 
commemorates the simple and natural humour of Matta, as rendering him 
the most delightful society in the world. Mademoiselle, in her Memoirs, 
alludes to his pleasantry in conversation, and turn for deep gaming. 
When the Memoirs of Grammont were subjected to the examination of 
FontencUe, then censor of the Parisian press, he refused to license them, 
on 2.ccount of the scandalous conduct imputed to Grammont in this party 
at qidnze. The count no sooner heard of this than he hastened to Fon- 
tenelle, and having joked him for being more tender of his reputation 
than he was himself, the license was instantly issued. The censor might 
have retorted upon Grammont the answer which the count made to a 
widow, who received coldly his compliments of condolence on her hus- 
band's death. " Nay, madam, if that is the way you take it, I care as 
little about it as you do." He died in 1674. ** Matta est mort sans 
confession," says Madame Maintenon, in a letter to her brother. — Tome 
i. p. G7. 

Note 10, Page 40. 
Cccsars de Vendome. 

Caesar Duke de Vendome was the eldest son of Henry IV., by the cele- 
brated Gabrielle d'Estr^es. He died in 1665. 

Note 11, Page 40. 
T?ie college of Pan. 
Pau was the capital of the principality of Beam, and lies on an emi- 
nence on the Gave Bearnois, being mdeed small and well built, and for- 
merly the seat of a parliament, a bailiwick, and a chamber of accounts. 
In the palace here was born Henry IV. Exclusive of an academy of 
sciences and liberal arts, there was in it a college of Jesuits, with live con- 
vents, and two hospitrJs. 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 827 

Note 12, Page 42. 
Bidache. 
. A principality belonging to the family of the Grammonts, in the pro- 
vince of Gascogny. 

Note 13, Page 55. , 
The Baron de Balteville. 
This officer appears to have been the same person who was afterwards 
ambassador from Spain to the court of Great Britain, where, in the sum- 
mer of 1G60, he offended the French court, by claiming precedence of their 
ambassador, Count D'Estrades, on the public entry of the Swedish am- 
bassador into London. On this occasion the court of France compelled 
its rival of Spain to submit to the mortifying circumstance of acknow- 
ledging the French superiority. To commemorate this important victory, 
Lewis XIV. caused a medal to be struck, representing the Spanish ambas- 
sador, Marquis de Fuente, making the declaration to that king, ** No 
concurrer con los ambassadores de Francia," with this inscription, ** Jus 
prsecedendi assertum," and under it, " Hispanorum excusatio coram xxx 
legatis principum, 1662." A very curious account of the fray occasioned 
by this dispute, drawn up by Mr. Evelyn, is to be seen in that gentleman's 
article in the Biographia Britannica. Lord Clarendon, speaking of Baron 
de Batteville, says, he was born in Burgundy, in the Spanish quarters, and 
bred a soldier, in which profession he was an officer of note, and at that 
time was governor of St. Sebastian's, and of that province. He seemed 
a rough man, and to have more of the camp, but in truth, knew the in- 
trigues of a court better than most Spaniards ; and, except when his pas- 
sion surprised him, wa^ wary and cunning in his negotiation. He lived 
with less reservation and more jollity than the ministers of that crov/n used 
to do, and drew such of the court to his table and conversation, who he 
observed were loud talkers, and confident enough in the king's presence. 
— Continuation of Clarendon, p. 84. 

Note 14, Page 57. 
Madame Roy ale, 
Christina, second daughter of Henry IV., married to Victor Amadeus, 
Prince of Piedmont, afterwards Duke of Savoy. She seems to have been 
well entitled to the character here given of her. Keysler, in Ids Travels, 
vol. i. p. 239, speaking of a fine villa, called La Vigne de Madame Roy- 
ale, near Turin, says, *' During the minority under the regent Christina, 
both the house and garden were often the scenes of riot and debauchery. 
On this account, in the king's advanced age, when he was, as it were, 
inflamed with an external flame of religion, and with vfhich possibly tha 
admonitions of his father-confessor might concur, this place became sc 
odious to him, that, upon the death of Madame Royale, he bestowed it or 
the hospital." She died in 1663. 



32S NOTES AND 

Note 15, Page 59. 
The Marc/iioness de Senantes, 
Lord Orford says, the family of Senantes still remains in Piedmont, 
and bears the title of Marquis de Carailles. 

Note 16, Page 60. 
La Veneris, 
This place is thus described by Keysler. Travels, vol. i. p. 235. — 
'' The palace most frequented by the royal family is La Venerie, the court 
generally continuing there from the spring to December. It is about a 
league from Turin : the road that leads to it is well paved, and the greatest 
part of it planted with trees on each side : it is not always in a direct line, 
but runs a little winding between line meadows, fields, and vineyards.'* 
After describing the palace as it then was, he adds, — ** The palace garden 
at present consists only of hedges and walks, whereas formerly it had fine 
water- works and grottos, besides the fountain of Hercules and the temple 
of Diana, of which a description may be seen in the Nouveau Theatre de 
Piedmont. But now nothing of these remains, being gone to ruin, partly 
by the ravages of the French, and partly by the king's order that they 
should be demolished, to make room for something else ; but those va- 
cuities have not yet, and probably will not very soon be filled up." 

Note 17, Page 83. 
The Prince de Conde. 
Lewis of Bourbon, Duke d'Enguien, afterwards, by the death of his 
father in 1646, Prince de Conde. Of this great man Cardinal de Retz 
says, *'he was born a general, which never happened but to Csesar, to 
Spinola, and to himself. He has equalled the first : he has surpassed the 
second. Intrepidity is one of the least shining strokes in his character. 
Nature had formed him with a mind as great as his courage. Fortune, in 
setting him out in a time of wars, has given this last a full extent to work 
in : his birth, or rather his education, in a family devoted and enslaved to the 
court, has kept the first within too strait bounds. He was not taught time 
enough the great and general maxims which alone are able to form men to 
think always Consistently. He never had time to learn them of himself, 
because he was prevented from his youth, by the great affairs that fell un- 
expectedly to his share, and by the continual success he met with. This 
defect in him was the cause, that with the soul in the world the least in- 
clined to evil, he has committed injuries ; that with the heart of an Alex- 
ander, he has, like him, had his failings ; that with a wonderful under- 
anding, he has acted imprudently ; that having all the qualities which 
e Duke Francis of Guise had, he has not served the state in some occa- 
sions so well as he ought ; and that having likewise all the qualities of the 
Duke Henry of Guise, he has not carried faction so far as he might. He 
could not come up to the height of his merit ; which, though it be a 
defect, must yet be owned to be very uncommon, and only to be found in 
persons of the greatest abilities." — Memoirs, vol. i. p. 248, edit. 1723. 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 829 

He retired from the army, soon after the death of Tureniie, to Chantilly, 
^* from whence, '^ says Voltaire, "he very rarely came to Versailles, to 
behold his glory eclipsed in a place where the courtier never regards any 
thing but favour. He passed the remainder of his days, tormented with 
the gout, relieving the severity of his pains, and employing the leisure of 
his retreat, in the conversation of men of genius of all kinds, with which 
France then abounded. He was worthy of their conversation ; as he was 
not unacquainted with any of those arts and sciences in which they shone. 
He continued to be admired even in his retreat ; but at last that devouring 
fire, which, in his youth, had made him a hero, impetuous, and full of 
passions, having consumed the strength of his body, which was naturally 
rather agile than robust, he declined before his time ; and the strength of his 
mind decaying with that of his body, there remained nothing of the great 
Conde during the last two years of his life. He died in 1686.'^ — Age of 
Lewis XIV. y chap. 11. He was aged 66 years. 

[Pepys says, ^* The Prince of Conde 's excellence is, that there is not a 
more furious man in the world ; danger in fight never disturbs him, ex- 
cept, just to make him civil, and to command in words of great obligation 
to his officers and men ; but without any the least disturbance in his judg- 
ment or spirit."] 

Note 18, Page 83. 
Battles of Lens, Norlinguin, and Frihourg, 
These were fought in the years 1648, 1645, and 1644. 

Note 19, Page 84. 
The Queen. 
Anne of Austria, daughter of Philip III. of Spain, widow of Lewis XIII., 
to whom she was married in 1615, and mother of Lewis XIV. She died 
in 1666. Cardinal de Retz speaks of her in the following terms. — " The 
queen had more than anybody whom I ever knew, of that sort of wit 
which was necessary for her not to appear a fool to those that did not knovf 
her. She had in her more of harshness than haughtiness ; more of haugh- 
tiness than of greatness ; more of outward appearance than reality ; more 
regard to money than liberality ; more of liberality than of self-interest ; 
more of self-interest than disinterestedness : she was more tied to persons 
by habit than by affection ; she had more of insensibility than of cruelty ; 
she had a better memory for injuries than for benefits ; her intention to- 
wards piety was greater than her piety ; she had in her more of obstinacy 
than of firmness ; and more incapacity than of all the rest which I men- 
tioned before." — Memoirs, vol. i. p. 247. 

Note 20, Page 84. 
The policy of the minister. 

Cardinal Mazarine, who, during a few of the laiter years of his life, 
governed France. He died at Vincennes the 9th of March 1661, aged 59 
years, leaving as heir to his nam.e and property the Marquis de la Meil- 



330 NOTES AND 

leray, who married his niece, and took the title of Duke of Mazarine. 
On his death, Lewis XIV. and the court appeared in mourning, an I 
honour not common, though Henry IV. had shewn it to the memory 
of Gabriel le d'Estrees. Voltaire, who appears unwiUing to ascribe much 
ability to the cardinal, takes an opportunity, on occasion of his death, to 
make the following observation. — " We cannot refrain from combating 
the .opinion, which supposes prodigious abilities, and a genius almost 
divine, in those who have governed empires with some degree of success. 
It is not a superior penetration that makes statesmen ; it is their charac- 
ter. All men, how inconsiderable soever their share of sense may be, 
see their own interest nearly alike. A citizen of Bern or Amsterdam, in 
this respect, is equal to Sejanus, Ximenes, Buckingham, Richelieu, or 
Mazarine ; but our conduct and our enterprises depend absolutely on 
our natural dispositions, and our success depends upon fortune.'' — Age 
of Lewis XIV, chap. 5. 

Note 21, Page 85. 
The ArchduJce. 
Leopold, brother of the Emperor Ferdinand III. 

Note 22, Page 85. 
Peronne. 
A little but strong town, standing among marshes on the river Somme, 
in Picardy. 

Note 23, Page 85. 
The battle of Rocroy. 
This famous battle was fought and won 19th May, 1643, five days after 
the death of Lewis XIII. 

Note 24, Page 85. 
The siege of Arras. 
Voltaire observes, that it was the fortune of Turenne and Conde to be 
always victorious when they fought at the head of the French, and to be 
vanquished when they commanded the Spaniards. This was Conde's fate 
before Arras, August 25, 1654, when he and the archduke besieged that 
city. Turenne attacked them in their camp, and forced their lines : the 
troops of the archduke w^ere cut to pieces ; and Conde, with two regi- 
ments of French and Lorrainers, alone sustained the efforts of Turenne's 
army ; and, while the archduke was flying, he defeated the Marshal de 
Hoquincourt, repulsed the Marshal de la Ferte, and retreated victoriously 
himself, by covering the retreat of the vanquished Spaniards. The king 
of Spain, in his letter to him after this engagement, had these words : 
'* I have been informed that every thing was lost, and that you have 
recovered every thing." 



ILLUSTUATIONS. 331 

Note 25, Page 87. 

The Duke of York, 
Priorato, in his Memoirs of Cardinal Mazarine, mentions other Eng- 
lishmen besides the Duke of York being present ; as Lords Gerrard, Bar- 
clay, and Jermyn, with others. — Memoirs, 12mo., 1673, tome i. pt. 3, 
p. 365. 

Note 26, Page 87. 

Marquis de Humieres. 

Lewis de Crevans, marechal of France. He died 1694. Voltaire says 

of him, that he was the first who, at the siege of Arras, in 1658, was 

served in sibber in the trenches, and had ragouts and entremets served up 

to his table. 

Note 27, Page 91. 
Montmorency, 
Henry Duke of Montmorency, who was taken prisoner 1st September. 
1632, and had his head struck off at Thoulouse in the month of November 
following. 

Note 28, Page 93. 

Bapaume, 

A fortified town in Artois, seated in a barren country, without rivers 

or springs, and having an old palace, which gave rise to the town, with 

a particular governor of its own, a royal and forest court. In 1641 the 

French took it from the Spaniards. 

Note 29, Page 97. 
WitJicut doubt he would have given him some seve'^e reply. 
This spirit seems not always to have attended him in his transactions 
with the cardinal. On occasion of the entry of the king in 1660, ^* Le 
Chevalier de Grammont, Rouville, Bellefonds, and some other courtiers, 
attended in the cardinal's suite, a degree of flattery which astonished 
every body who knew him. I was informed that the chevalier wore a 
very rich orange-coloured dress on that occasion." — Leitres de Main- 
tenon, tome i. p. 32. 

Note 30, Page 97. 
Peter Mazarine, 
Peter Mazarine was father to the cardinal. \\z was a native of Palermo 
in Sicily, which place he left in order to settle at Rome, where he died in 
the year 1654. 

Note 31, Page 99. 
The peace of the Pyrenees, 
This treaty was concluded 7th November, 1659. 



l^O^ NOTES AND 

Note 32, Page 90. 
IVie king^s marriage. 
Lewis XIV. with Mary Theresa of Austria. She was born 20th Sep- 
tember, 1638, married 1st June, 16G0, and entered Paris 26th August 
following. She died at Versailles 30th July, 1683, and was buried at 
St. Denis. 

Note 33, Page 99. 
The return of Prince de Conde. 
11th April. — See De Retz's Memoirs, vol. iii. p. 119. 

Note 34, Page 101. 

La Motte Houdancoiirt , Meneville. 

These two ladies at this period seem to have made a distinguished 
figure in the annals of gallantry. One of their contemporaries mentions 
them in these terms : ** In this case, perhaps, I can give a better account 
than most people ; as, for instance, they had raised a report, when the 
queen-mother expelled Mademoiselle de ia Motte Agencourt, that it was 
on his score, when I am assured, upon very good grounds, that it was 
for entertaining the Marquis de Richelieu against her majesty's express 
command. This lady, who was one of her maids of honour, was a person 
whom I was particularly acquainted with ; and that so much, as I was 
-supposed to have a passion for her ; she was counted one of the finest 
women of the court, and therefore I was not displeased at all to have it 
thought so ; for, except Mademoiselle de Meneville (who had her ad- 
mirers), there was none could pretend to dispute it." — Memoirs of the 
Count de Rochfort, 1696, p. 210. — See also Anquetil Louis XIV, sa 
Cour et le Regent, tome i. p. 46. 

Note 35, Page 104. 
Exhausted themselves in festivals and rejoicings for his return. 
Bishop Burnet confirms this account. **With the restoration of the 
king," says he, *' a spirit of extravagant joy spread over the nation, that 
brought on with it the throwing off the very professions of virtue and 
piety. All ended in entertainments and drunkenness, w^hich overrun 
the three kingdoms to such a degree, that it very much corrupted all 
their morals. Under the colour of drinking the king's health, there were 
great disorders, and much riot every where : and the pretences of reli- 
gion, both in those of the hypocritical sort, and of the more honest, but 
no less pernicious enthusiasts, gave great advantages, as well as they 
furnished much matter to the profane mockers of true piety." — History 
of his oivn Times, vol. i., p. 127, 8vo edit. Voltaire says, King Charles 
*' was received at Dover by twenty thousand of his subjects, who fell upon 
their knees before him ; and I have been told by some old men who were 
of this number, that hardly any of those who were present could refrain 
from tears." — Age of Lewis XIV. chap. 5. 



ILLUSTPvATIONS. 333 

Note 36, Page 105. 
At his coronation. 

There is some reason to believe that the Count de Grammont, whose 
circumstances at his first arrival at the court of Britain were inferior to 
his rank, endeavoured to distinguish himself by his literary acquirements. 
A scarce little book, in Latin and French, upon the coronation, has been 
ascribed to him with some probability. The initials subscribed in dif- 
ferent places of the work are P. D. C, which may correspond to Philibert 
de Cramont, in which manner the family name was often spelled ; and 
the dedication seems to apply accurately to the count's circumstances. 
The full title runs : ' 

" Complementum Fortunatarum Insularum, sive Galathea Vaticinans ; 
being part of an epithalamium upon the auspicious match of the most 
puissant and most serene Charles II., and the most illustrious Catharina, 
Infanta of Portugal; with a description of the Fortunate Islands. Written 
originally in French, by P. D. C, Gent.,* and since translated by him into 
Latin and English. With the translations also of the Description of S. 
James's Park, and the late Fight at S. Lucar, by Mr. Edmund Waller ; 
the Panegyric of Charles the Second, b)^ Mr. Dryden ; and other pieces 
relating to the present times. London, printed by W. G., 1662." 

It is dedicated to James Boteler, Earl of Ossory, Viscount Thorle, 
afterwards Duke of Ormond, previous to his going to Ireland, f which 
dedication concludes thus: — ''The utmost height of my ambition, and 
the utmost scope of my desseine at present, my lord, is only, since I have 
no other means left me to provide for my attendance upon your lordship 
and the heads of your honourable family, in this your journey, that you 
will be pleased to accept of me, in this slender garbe, being every way 
otherwise disappointed by the frowns of fortune, and so unfit to pretend 
admittance in so splendid a train ; unless it be 

Nelle scorta di Febo, che a vos s'inchina, 
Tutta ridente, tutta di scherzi plena. 

But, my lord, my own words on another occasion : 

Se quelque jour, la Fortune 

Met en plus grande liberte 

Mon Genie persecute 

Des rigueurs de cette importune, 

Peut-etre d'un Burin plus seur 

Et d'un vers rempli de douceur 

D' Ormond j'enterprendrai I'image ; 
Et dans les beaux exploits de tous ses descendans 
La depeindray si bien que la plus fiere rage 
Respectera ses traits jusqu'a la fin des temps. 



* The state of his fortune at this period not allowing the splendour of a 
French nobleman, he was only considered a private gentleman ; and this 
he hints at in the dedication that follows. 

t Philibert, Count Grammont married the Duke of Ormondes sister. 



334 NOTES AND 

" This is the vow, this is the serious wish of him, my lord, who desires, 
for no better end, to be once again restored to the state of his former for- 
tune, than to l3ecome thereby more ready and capable to wait hereafter on 
your lordship otherwise than by his pen, and so declare, by some more 
real deed than poetical expressions, how unfeignedly he is, 

My lord, 

Your lordship's 
Most true and most devoted servant, 
P. D. C." 
The contents of the book consist chiefly of poetry of a complimentary 
nature. The following well-known lines of Waller's, on Westminster/ 
Abbey, he has given with much taste : — 

*' From hence he does that antique pile behold. 
Where royal heads receive the sacred gold ; 
It gives them crowns, and does their ashes keep ; 
There made like gods, like mortals there they sleep.'* 

** Passant plus outre il voit la chapelle ou nos rois 
Resolvent Tor sacre et leur gardant les loix. 
La terre aussi sacree egalement leurs donne, 
La droit de sepulture et la droit de couronne.*' 

The contents of the volume are — 

A Song of the Sea Nymph Galatea, upon the marriage of Charles IL 
and the Princess Infanta of Portugal (fifteen stanzas, of ten lines each.) 

The same in Latin. 

The same in French. 

St. James's Park, by Waller, in English, French, and Latin. 

Of the late War with Spain, 1657, and our Victory at St. Lucar, near 
Cadiz, by the same, in English and French. 

On his sacred Majesty's Coronation, by Dryden, English and French. 

The Fortunate Islands, being part of a larger poem written formerly in 
French, upon the happy inauguration of Charles II. By P. D. C. ; and 
since by him translated in English and Latin. Dedicated to his dear friend 
Edmund Waller, Esq., with a specimen of an English version. 

Another dedication*. — *'To Prince Rupert, as a monument of his de- 
voted respects and due esteem of his highness 's celebrated virtues and 
great experience in sea-voyages ; and as a deserved acknowledgment of his 
highness's indefatigable endeavours in promoting English plantations, 
P. D. C. humbly dedicates this Pindaric Rapture ; being part of his poem 
of the Fortunate Islands, formerly written in French, and addressed to 
the king's majesty upon the solemnity of his auspicious coronation." — 
Twenty-five stanzas, of ten lines each. 

The same in Latin. 

The king's excursion on the Thames, July, anno 1661 ; an extempore 
ode, *' To the great and illustrious William, Earl of Devonshire, the no- 
ble and judicious Mecaenas of polite literature ; P. D. C. dedicates it in 
obedient and grateful testimony," &c. 

A short ode of about sixty lines. 

If we are correct in imputing this work to Grammont, he must have 



W 



ILLUSTRATIONS 335 

been in England at the time of the coronation, which agrees tolerably with 
the vague expression in the text that he arrived about two years after the 
Restoration. For this ceremony did not take place until after the deaths 
of the Duke of Gloucester and the Princess of Orange. It was celebrated 
22nd and 23rd April, 1661, with uncommon magnificence; the whole 
show, as Lord Clarendon observes, being the most glorious, in the order 
and expense, that had ever been seen in England. The procession began 
from the Tower, and continued so long, that they who rode first were in 
Fleet-street when the king issued from the Tower. The whole ceremo- 
nial took up two days. — See Continuation of Clarendon^ p. 29 ; Kennefs 
Register, 411. 

[Pepys' account of the Coronation given in his amusing Diary 
is so characteristic and illustrative, that we think it deserves a place 
here. 

*' April 22nd, 1661. The King's going from the Tower to White Hall. 
Up early and made myself as fine as I could, and put on my velvet coat, the 
first day that I put it on, though made half a year ago. And being ready, 
Sir W. Batten, my Lady, and his two daughters and his son and wife, and 
Sir W. Penn and his son and 1, went to Mr. Young's, the flag-maker, in 
Cornhill ; and there we had a good room to ourselves, with wine and 
good cake, and saw the show very well. In which it is impossible to 
relate the glory of this day, expressed in the clothes of them that rid, and 
their horses and horses-clothes. Among others, my Lord Sandwich's 
embroidery and diamonds were not ordinary among them. The Knights 
of the Bath was a brave sight of itself; and their Esquires, among which 
Mr. Armiger was an Esquire to one of the Knights. Remarkable were 
the two men that represent the two Dukes of Normandy and Aquitaine. 
The Bishops come next after Barons, which is the higher place ; which 
makes me think that the next Parliament they will be called to the 
House of Lords. My Lord Monk rode bare after the King, and led in 
his hand a spare horse, as being Master of the Horse. The King, in a 
most rich embroidered suit and cloak, looked most noble. Wadlow the 
vintner, at the Devil, in Fleet-street, did lead a fine company of soldiers, 
all young comely men, in white doublets. There followed the Vice- 
Chamberlain, Sir G. Carteret, a company of men all like Turks ; but I 
know not yet what they are for. The streets all gravelled, and the houses 
hung with carpets before them, made brave show, and the ladies out of 
the windows. So glorious was the show with gold and silver, that we 
were not able to look at it, our eyes at last being so much overcome. 
Both the King and the Duke of York took notice of us, as they saw us 
at the window. In the evening, by water to White Hall to my Lord's, 
and there I spoke with my Lord. He talked with me about his suit, 
which was made in France, and cost him 200/., and very rich it is with 
embroidery. 

*' CORONATION DAY. 

»* 23rd. About four I rose and got to the Abbey, where I followed Sir 
J. Denham, the Surveyor, with some company that he was leading in. 
And with much ado, by the favour of Mr. Cooper, his man, did get up 



3oG NOTES AND 



\ 



? nto a great scaffold across the North end of the Abbey, where with a' 
great deal of patience I sat from past four till eleven before the King 
came in. And a great pleasure it was to see the Abbey raised in the 
middle, all covered with red, and a throne (that is a chair) and footstool 
on the top of it ; and all the officers of all kinds, so much as the very' 
fiddlers, in red vests. At last comes in the Dean and Prebends of West- 
minster, with the Bishops (many of them in cloth of gold copes), and 
after them the Nobility, all in their Parliament robes, which was a most 
magnificent sight. Then the Duke, and the King with a sceptre (carried 
by my Lord Sandwich) and sword and wand before him, and the crown 
too. The King in his robes, bare-headed, which was very fine. And' 
after all had placed themselves, there was a sermon and the service ; and 
then in the choir at the high altar, the King passed through all the cere- 
monies of the Coronation, which to my great grief I and most in the 
Abbey could not see. The crown being put upon his head, a great 
shout began, and he came forth to the throne, and there passed through 
more ceremonies : as taking the oath, and having things read to him by 
the Bishop : and his lords (who put on their caps as soon as the King 
put on his crown) and bishops come, and kneeled before him. And 
three times the King at Arms went to the three open places on the 
scaffold, and proclaimed, that if any one coulJ show any reason why 
Charles Stewart should not be King of England, that now he should 
come and speak. And a General Pardon also was read by the Lord 
Chancellor, and medals flung up and down by my Lord Cornwallis, of 
silver, but I could not come by any. But so great a noise that I could 
make but little of the music ; and indeed, it was lost to every body. I 
went out a little while before the King had done all his ceremonies, and 
went round the Abbey to Westminster Hall, all the way within rails, 
and 10,000 people with the ground covered with blue cloth ; and scaffolds 
all the way. Into the Hall I got, where it was very fine with hangings 
and scaffolds one upon another full of brave ladies ; and my wife in one 
little one, on the right hand. Here I staid walking up and down, and at 
last upon one of the side stalls I stood and saw the King come in with 
all the persons (but the soldiers) that were yesterday in the cavalcade ; 
and a most pleasant sight it was to see them m their several robes. And 
the King came in with his crown on, and his sceptre in his hand, under 
a canopy borne up by six silver staves, carried by Barons of the Cinque 
Ports, and little bells at every end. And after a long time, he got up to 
the farther end, and all set themselves down at their several tables ; and 
that was also a brave sight : and the King's fi^st course carried up by the 
Knights of the Bath. And many fine ceremonies there was of the He- 
ralds leading up people before him, and bowing ; and my Lord of Albe- 
marle's going to the kitchen and eating a bit of the first dish that was to 
go to the King's table. But, above all, was these three Lords, North- 
umberland, and Suffolk, and the Duke of Ormond, coming before the 
courses on horseback, and staying so all dinner-time, and at last bringmg 
up (Dymock) the King's Champion, all in armour on horseback^ with his 
bpear and target carried before him. And a Herald proclaims ' That 
if any dare deny Charles Stewart to be Uwful King of England, here was 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 337 

a Champion that would fight with him;* and with these words the 
Champion flings down his gauntlet, and all this he do three times in his 
going up towards the King's table. To which w^hen he is come, the 
King drinks to him, and then sends him the cup which is of gold, and he 
drinks it off, and then rides back again with the cup in his hand. 1 went 
from table to table to see the Bishops and all others at their dinner, and 
was infinitely pleased with it. And at the Lords' table, I met with Wil- 
liam Howe, and he spoke to my Lord for me, and he did give him four 
rabbits and a pullet, and so Mr. Creed and I got Mr. Minshell to give 
us some bread, and so we at a stall eat it, as every body else did what 
they could get. I took a great deal of pleasure to go up and down, and 
look upon the ladies, and to hear the music of all sorts, but above all, 
the twenty-four violins. About six at night they had dined, and I went 
up to my wife. And strange it is to think, that these two days have held 
up fair till now that all is done, and the King gone out of the Hall ; and 

i then it fell a-raining and thundering and lightening as I have not seen it 
do for some years : which people did take great notice of ; God's bless- 
ing of the work of .these two days, which is a foolery to take too much 
notice of such things. I observed little disorder in all this, only the 
King's footmen had got hold of the canopy, and would keep it from the 
Barons of the Cinque Ports, which they endeavoured to force from them 
again, but could not do it till my Lord Duke of Albemarle caused it to be 
put into Sir R. Pye's hand till to-morrow to be decided. At Mr. Bow- 

' yer's ; a gr^at deal of company, some I knew, others I did not. Here 
we staid upon the leads and below till it w^as late, expecting to see the 
fire-works, but they were not performed to-night : only the city had a 
light like a glory round about it with bonfires. At last I went to King- 
street, and there sent Crockford to my father's and my house, to tell 
them I could not come home to-night, because of the dirt, and a coach 
could not be had. And so I took my wife and Mrs. Frankleyn (whom I 
proffered the civility of lying with my wife at Mrs. Hunt's to-night) to 
Axe-yard, in which at the further end there were three great bonfires, 
and a great many great gallants, men and women ; and they laid hold of 

! us, and would have us drink the King's health upon our knees, kneeling 

I upon a faggot, which we all did, they drinking to us one after another. 

' Which we thought a strange frolic ; but these gallants continued there 
a great while, and I wondered to see how the ladies did tipple. At last 
I sent my wife and her bedfellow to bed, and Mr. Hunt and I went in 
with Mr. Thornbury (who did give the company all their wine, he being 
yeoman of the wine-cellar to the King) ; and there, with his wife and 
two of his sisters, and some gallant sparks that were there, we drank the 

I King's health, and nothing else, till one of the gentlemen fell down stark 
drunk, and there lay ; and I went to my Lord's pretty well. Thus did 
the day end with joy every where ; and blessed be God, I have not 
heard of any mischance to any body through it aU, but only to Serjeant 
Glynne, whose horse fell upon him yesterday, and is like to kill him, 
which people do please themselves to see how just God is to puiiish the 
rogue at such a time as this : he being now one of the King's Serjeants, 
and rode in the cavalcade with Maynard, to whom people wish the 



ooS NOTES AND ^^ 

same fortune. There was also this night in King-street, a woman 
had her eye put out by a boy's flinging a firebrand into the coach. Now, » 
after all this, I can say, that, besides the pleasure of the sight of these '^ 
glorious things, I may now shut my eyes against any other objects, nor 
for the future trouble myself to see things of state and show, as being 
sure never to see the like again in this world. 

** 24th. At night, set myself to write down these three days* diary, 
and while I am about it, I hear the noise of the chambers, and others 
things of the flre-works, which are now playing upon the Thames i 
before the King; and I wish myself with them, being sorry not to see ^ 
them. 

" 30th. This morning my wife and I and Mr. Creed, took coach, 
and in Fish-street took up Mr. Hater and his wife, who through her ' 
mask seemed at first to be an old woman, but afterwards I found her to 
be a very pretty modest black woman. We got a small bait at Leather- 
head, and so to Godlyman, where we lay all night. I am sorry that I 
am not at London, to be at Hyde-park to-morrow, among the great gal- 
lants and ladies, which will be very fine.''] 

Note 37, Page 105. 
The deat'h of the DuJce of Gloucester, 
This event took place September 3rd, 1660. He died of the small- 
pox. [Pepys says, '* by the great negligence of his doctors."!,.** Though 
mankind," as Mr. Macpherson observes, ** are apt to exaggerate the 
virtues of princes who happen to die in early youth, their praises 
seem to have done no more than justice to the character of Glou- 
cester. He joined in himself the best qualities of both his brothers ; 
the understanding and good-nature of Charles, to the industry and appli- 
cation of James. The facility of the first was in him, a judicious mode- 
ration. The obstinacy of the latter was, in Gloucester, a manly firmness 
of mind. Attached to the religion, and a friend to the constitution of his 
country, he was most regretted, when his family regarded these the least. 
The vulgar, who crowd with eminent virtues and great actions the years 
which fate denies to their favourites, foresaw future misfortunes in his 
death ; and even the judicious supposed that the measures of Charles 
might have derived solidity from his judgment and promising parts. The 
king lamented his death with all the vehemence of an affectionate sorrow." 
The Duke of York was much affected with the loss of a brother, whose 
high merit he much admired. '* He was a prince," says James, ** of the 
greatest hopes, undaunted courage, admirable parts, and a clear under- 
standing." He had a particular talent of languages. Besides the Latin, 
he was master of the French, the Spanish, the Italian, and Low Dutch. 
He was, in short, possessed of all the natural qualities, as well as ac- 
quired accomplishments, necessary to make a great prince. — Macpher- 
son' s History of Great Britain, ch. 1. Bishop Burnet's character of this 
young prince is also very favourable. — See Burnet's Own TimeSj 
vnl. i. p. 238. 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 339 

Note 38, Page 105. 
Princess Royal. 
Mary, eldest daughter of Charles I., born November 4th, 1631, mar- 
ried to the Prince of Orange 2nd May, 1641, who died 27th October, 1650. 
She arrived in England September 23rd. [Pepys says, in his Diary, 
March 17th, 1660, ** In a coach we went to see a house of the Princess 
Dowager's, in a park about a mile from the Hague, where there is one of 
the most beautiful rooms for pictures in the whole world. She had here 
one picture upon the top, with these words, dedicating it to the memory 
of her husband : — ' Incomparabili marito, inconsolabilis vidua.' "] She 
died of the small-pox December 24th, 1660, according to Bishop Burnet, 
*' not much lamented. She had lived," says the author, *' in her widow- 
hood for some years with great reputation, kept a decent court, and sup- 
ported her brothers very liberally ; and lived within bounds. But her 
mother, who had the art of making herself believe any thing she had a 
mind to, upon a conversation with the queen-mother of France, fancied 
the King of France might be inclined to marry her. So she writ to her 
to come to Paris. In order to that, she made an equipage far above what 
she could support. So she ran herself into debt, sold all her jewels, and 
some estates that were in her power as her son's guardian ; and was not 
only disappointed of that vain expectation, but fell into some misfortunes 
that lessened the reputation she had formerly lived in." — Burnefs 
Own Times, Yol. i. p. 238. She was mother of William III. 

Note 39, Page 105. 
The reception of the Infanta of Portugal 

''The Infanta of Portugal landed in May (1662) at Portsmouth. 
[Pepys, in his Diary, May 15th, 1662, says, ''* At night, all the bells in 
the town rung, and bonfires made for the joy of the Queen's arrival, 
who landed at Portsmouth last night. But I do not see much true joy, 
but only an indifferent one, in the hearts of people, who are much discon- 
tented at the pride and luxury of the Court, and running in debt."] The 
king went thither, and was married privately by Lord Aubigny, a secular 
priest, and almoner to the queen, according to the rites of Rome, in the 
queen's chamber ; none present but the Portuguese ambassador, three 
more Portuguese of quality, and two or three Portuguese women. What 
m-ade this necessary was, that the Earl of Sandwich did not marry her by 
proxy, as usual, before she came away. How this happened, the duke 
knows not, nor did the chancellor know of this private marriage. The 
queen would not be bedded, till pronounced man and wife by Sheldon, 
bishop of London." — Extract 2, from King James II. 's Journal. — Mac- 
pherson's State Papers, vol. 1. In the same collection is a curious letter 
from the King to Lord Clarendon, giving his opinion of the queen after 
having seen her. 

Note 40, Page 105. 
The King ivas inferior to none. 

Charles II. was born 29th May, 1630, and died 6th February, 1684-5. 
His character is very amply detailed, and accurately depicted by George 



340 ^'OTES AND 

Saville, Marquis of Halifax, in a volume published by his grand- daughter 
the Countess of Burlington, 8vo. 1750. See also Burnet, Clarendon, and 
Sheffield Duke of Buckingham. 

Note 41, Page 105. 

T?ie DuJce of York. 

James Duke of York, afterwards King James II. He was born 15th 
October, 1633 ; succeeded his brother 6th February, 1684-5 ; abdicated 
the crown in 1688; and died 6th September, 1701. Bishop Burnet's 
character of him appears not very far from the truth. — ** He was/' says 
this writer, ** very brave in his youth ; and so much magnified by Monsieur 
Turenne, that till his marriage lessened him, he really clouded the king, and 
passed for the superior genius. He was naturally candid and sincere, and 
a firm friend, till affairs and his religion wore out all his first principles 
and inclinations. He had a great desire to understand affairs : and in or- 
der to that he kept a constant journal of all that passed, of which he shewed 
me a great deal. The Duke of Buckingham gave me once a short but se- 
vere character of the two brothers. It was the more severe, because it was 
true : the king, (he said,) could see things if he would : and the duke 
would see things if he could. He had no true judgment, and was soon 
determined by those whom he trusted : but he was obstinate against all 
other advices. He was bred with high notions of kingly authority, and 
laid it down for a maxim, that all who opposed the king, were rebels in 
their hearts. He was perpetually in one amour or other, without being 
very nice in his choice : upon which the king once said, he believed his 
brother had his mistresses given him by his priests for penance. He was 
naturally eager and revengeful : and was against the taking off any, that 
set up in aa opposition to the measures of the court, and who by that 
means grew popular in the house of commons. He was for rougher me- 
thods. He continued many years dissembling his religion, and seemed 
zealous for the church of England. But it was chiefly on design to hinder 
all propositions, that tended to unite us among ourselves. He was a fru- 
gal prince, and brought his court into method and magnificence, for he had 
100,000/. a-year allowed him. He was made high admiral, and he came 
to understand all the concerns of the sea very particularly." 

Note 42, Page 106. 
Miss Hyde. 
Miss Anne Hyde, eldest daughter of Lord Chancellor Clarendon. King 
James mentions this marriage in these terms. — ** The king at first refused 
the Duke of York's marriage with Miss Hyde. Many of the duke's friends 
and servants opposed it. The king at last consented, and the Duke of 
York privately married her, and soon after owned the marriage. Her want 
of birth was made up by endowments ; and her carriage afterwards became 
her acquired dignity." Again. ''When his sister, the princess royal, 
came to Paris to see the queen-mother, the Duke of York fell in love with 
Mrs. Anne Hyde, one of her maids of honour. Besides her person, slie 
had all the qualities proper to inflame a heart less apt to take fire than his, 



ILLUSTPvATlONS. 341 

which she managed so well as to bring his passion to such an height, that, 
between the time he first saw her and the winter before the king's restora- 
tion, he resolved to marry none but her ; and pronr.ised her to do it : and 
though, at first, when the duke asked the king his brother for his leave, he 
refused, and dissuaded him from it, yet at last he opposed it no more, and 
the duke married her privately, owned it some time after, and was ever 
after a true friend to the chancellor for several years/' — Macpherson^s 
State Papers, vol. i. 

[Pepys, in his Diary, October 7th, 1660, says : — "To my lord's, and 
dined with him ; he all dinner time talking French to me, and telling me 
the story how the Duke of York hath got my Lord Chancellor's daughter 
with child, and that she do lay it to him, and that for certain he did 
promise her marriage, and had signed it with his blood, but that he by 
stealth had got the paper out of her cabinet. And that the king would 
have him to marry her, but that he will not. So that the thing is very 
bad for the duke, and them all ; but my lord do make light of it, as a 
thing tl^t he believes is not a new thing for the duke to do abroad." 
Again, Feb. 23rd, 1660-1.—'* Mr. Hartlett told me how my Lord Chan- 
cellor had lately got the Duke of York and Duchesse, and her woman, 
my Lord Ossory, and a doctor, to make oath before most of the judges 
of the kingdom, concerning all the circumstances of the marriage. And 
in fine, it is confessed that they were not fully married till about a month 
or two before she was brought to bed ; but that they were contracted long 
before, and time enough for the child to be legitimate. But I do not hear 
that it was put to the judges to determine whether it was so or no."] 

Note 43, Page 106. 
Her father. 
Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, " for his comprehensive knowledge 
of mankind, styled the chancellor of human nature. His character, at 
this distance of time, may, and ought to be impartially considered. His 
designing or blinded contemporaries heaped the most unjust abuse upon 
him. The subsequent age, when the partizans of prerogative were at least 
the loudest, if not the most numerous, smit with a work that deified their 
martyr, have been unbounded in their encomium." — Catalogue of Noble 
Authors, vol. ii. p. 18. Lord Orford, who professes to steer a middle 
course, and separate his great virtues as a man from his faults as an his- 
torian, acknowledges that he possessed almost every virtue of a minister 
which could make his character venerable. He died in exile, in the year 
1674. 

Note 44, Page 106. 
The Duke of Ormond. 
James Butler, Duke of Ormond, born 19th October, 1610, and died 
21st July, 1688. Lord Clarendon, in the Continuation of his Life, ob- 
serves, that " he frankly engaged his person and his fortune in the king's 
service, from the first hour of the troubles, and pursued it with that cou- 
rage and constancy, that when the king was murdered, and he deserted by 
the Irish, contrary to the articles of pearp ""hich they had made with him, 



342 * NOTES AND 

and when he couUl make no longer defence, he refused all the conditions 
which Cromwell offered, who would have given him all his vast estate if 
he would have been contented to live quietly in some of his own houses, 
without further concerning himself in the quarrel ; and transported him- 
self, without so much as accepting a pass from his authority, in a little 
weak vessel into France, where he found the king, from whom he never 
parted till he returned with him into England. Having thus merited as 
much as a subject can do from a prince, he had much more credit and es- 
teem with the king than any other man." — Continuation of the Life of 
Lord Clarendon, p. 4, fol. edit. Bishop Burnet says of him, *' he was 
a man every way fitted for a court ; of a graceful appearance, a lively wit, 
and a cheerful temper ; a man of great expense ; decent even in his vices, 
for he always kept up the form of religion. He had gone through many 
transactions in Ireland with more fidelity than success. He had made a. 
treaty w^ith the Irish, which was broken by the great body of them, though 
some few of them adhered still to him. But the whole Irish nation did 
stiU pretend, that though they had broke the agreement first, yet he, or - 
rather the king, in whose name he had treated with them, was bound to 
perform all the articles of the treaty. He had miscarried so in the siege 
of Dublin, that it very much lessened the opinion of his military conduct. 
Yet his constant attendance on his master, his easiness to him, and his 
great suffering for him, raised him to be lord-steward of the household, 
and lord- lieutenant of Ireland. He was firm to the protestant religion, 
and so far firm to the laws, that he always gave good advices ; but when 
bad ones were followed, he was not for complaining too much of them."- — 
Burnet's Own Times, vol. i. p. 230. 

Note 45, Page 106. 
The Earl of St, Allan's, 
Henry Jermyn, Earl of St. Alban's, and Baron of St. Edmund's Bury. 
He was master of the horse to Queen Henrietta, and one of the privy- 
council to Charles II. In July 1660, he was sent ambassador to the court 
of France, and, in 1671, he was made lord-chamberlain of his majesty's 
household. He died January 2, 1683. Sir John Beresby asserts, that 
Lord St. Alban's was married to Queen Henrietta. ** The abbess of an 
English college in Paris, whither the queen used to retire, would tell me," 
says Sir John, ''that Lord Jermyn, since St. Alban's, had the queen 
greatly in awe of him ; and indeed it was obvious that he had great inter- 
est with her concerns ; but he was married to her, or had children by her, 
as some have reported, I did not then believe, though the thing was cer- 
tainly so." — Memoirs, p. 4. [Pepys says, in his Diary, Dec. 21st, 1660: 
— *' I hear that the Princess Royal hath married herself to young Jermyn, 
which is worse than the Duke of York's marrying the Chancellor's daugh- 
ter, which is now publicly owned."] Madame Baviere, in her letters, says, 
•* Charles the First's widow made a clandestine marriage with her cheva- 
lier d'honneur, Lord St. Alban's, who treated her extremely ill, so that, 
whilst she had not a faggot to warm herself, he had in his apartment a 
good fire and a sumptuous table. He never gave the queen a kind word 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 343 

and when she spoke to him he used to say, Que me veut cette femme ? " 
Hamilton hints at his selfishness a little lower. 

Note 46, Page 106. 
Dissipated without splendour an immense estate^ upon which he had just 

entered, 
'*The Duke of Buckingham is again one hundred and forty thousand 
pounds in debt ; and by this prorogation his creditors have time to tear 
all his lands to pieces.'' — Andrew Marvell's Works, 4to. edit,, vol. i. p. 
406. 

Note 47, Page 106. 
Sir George Berkeley, 
This Sir George Berkeley, as he is here improperly called, was Charles 

Berkley, second son of Sir Berkley, of Bruton, in Gloucestershire, 

and was the principal favourite and CLmpanion of the Duke of York in 
all his campaigns. He was created Baron Berkley of Rathdown, and 
Viscount Fitzharding of Ireland, and Baron Bottetort and Earl of Fal- 
mouth in England, 17th March, 1664. He had the address to secure 
himself in the affections equally of the king and his brother at the same 
time. Lord Clarendon, who seems to have conceived, and with reason, a 
prejudice against him, calls him ^* a fellow of great wickedness," and says, 
*' he was one in whom few other men (except the king) had ever observed 
any virtue or quality, which they did not wish their best friends without. 
He was young, and of an insatiable ambition ; and a little more experience 
might have taught him all things which his weak parts were capable of." 
— Clarendon s Life, pp. 34, 267. Bishop Burnet, however, is rather 
more favourable. *' Berkley," says he, " was generous in his expence ; 
and it was thought if he had outlived the lewdness of that time, and come 
to a more sedate course of life, he would have put the king on great and 
noble designs." — History, vol. i. p. 137. He lost his life in the action 
at Southwold Bay, the 2nd June, 1665, by a shot, which, at the same 
time, killed Lord Muskerry and Mr. Boyle, as they were standing on the 
quarter-deck, near the Duke of York, who was covered with their blood. 
*' Lord Falmouth," as King James observes, " died not worth a farthing, 
though not expensive." — Macpherson' s State Papers, vol. i. *' He was, 
however, lamented by the king with floods of tears, to the amazement of 
all who had seen how unshaken he stood on other assaults of fortune." — 
Clarendon's Life, p. 269. Even his death did not save him from Mai*- 
vell's satire, 

Falmouth was there, I know not what to act, 
Some say, 'twas to grow duke too by contract ; 
An untaught bullet, in his wanton scope. 
Dashes him all to pieces, and his hope : 
Such was his rise, such was his fall unpraised, — 
A chance shot sooner took him than chance raised ; 
His shattered head the fearless duke disdains. 
And gave the last first proof that he had brains. 

Advice to a Painter, p. 1. 



344 



NO;'i:s AXD 



Note 48, Page 107. 
The Earl of Arran. 
Richard Butler, Earl of Arran, fifth son of James Butler, the first Duke 
of Ormond. He was born 15th July, 1639, and educated with great 
<:.re, being taught every thing suitable to his birth, and the great affection 
his parents had for h,m. As he grew up, he distinguished himself by a 
brave and excellent disposition, which determined him to a military life. 
When the duke, his father, was first made lord-lieutenant of Ireland, after 
the Restoration, his majesty was pleased, by his letter, dated April 23 
1662, to create Lord Richard, Baron Butler of Cloghgrenan, Viscoun 
Tullogh, in the county of Catlierlough, and Earl of Arran, with remainder 
to his brother. In September, 1664, he married Lady Mary Stuart, only 
surviving daughter of James Duke of Richmond and Lennox, by Mary 
tl^ only daughter of the great Duke of Buckingham, who died in July 
1067, at the age of eighteen, and was interred at Kilkenny. He distin- 
guished himself in reducing the mutineers at Carrick-Fergus, and behaved 
with great courage in the famous sea-fight with the Dutch, in 1673 In 
August that year, he was created Baron Butler of Weston, in the county 
ot Huntingdon. He married, in the preceding June, Dorothy, daughter 
of John Ferrars, of Tamworth Castle, in Warwickshire, Esq In 1682 
he was constituted lord-deputy of Ireland, upon his father's going over to 
England, and held that office until August, 1684, when the duke returned. 
In the year 1686, he died at London, and was interred in M'estminster- 
abbey, leaving an only daughter, Charlotte, who was married to Charles 
ijord Cornwallis. 

Note 49, Page 107. 

The Earl of Ossory, 
Thomas Earl of Ossory, eldest son of the first, and father of the last 
Duke of Ormond, was born at Kilkenny, 8th July, 1634. At the aee of 
twenty-one years he had so much distinguished himself, that Sir Robert 
Southwell then drew the folio wmg character of him :— '' He is a voun^ 
man with a very handsome face ; a good head of hair ; well set ; very good- 
natured ; rides the great horse very well ; is a very good tennis-player, 
lencer, and dancer ; understands music, and plays on the guitar and lute • 
speaks French elegantly; reads Italian fluently ; is a good historian ; and 
so well versed in romances, that if a'gallery be full of pictures and 
hangings, he will tell the stories of all that are there described. He 
shuts up his door at eight o'clock in the evening, and studies till mid- 
night : he IS temperate, courteous, and excellent in all his behaviour '' 
• ^a?r.^^' ^^° became acquainted with the Earl of Ossory at Paris 
l?^i . , ' /ecords the following amusing anecdote in his diarv — 
May ^th, 1G50.-I went with Sir Richard Browne's lady and my wife, 
together with the Earl of Chesterfield, Lord Ossory, and his brother, to 
Yainber a place near the City famous for butter; when coming home- 
wards, being on foot, a quarrel arose between Lord Ossory and a man 
m a garden, who thrust Lord Ossory from the gate with uncivil language, 
on which our young gallants struck the feiiow on the pate, and bid him 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 345 

ask pardon, which he did with much submission, and so we parted ; but 
we were not gone far before we heard a noise behind us, and saw people 
coming with guns, swords, staves, and forks, and who followed flinging 
stones ; on which we turned and were forced to engage, and with our 
swords, stones, and the help of our servants (one of whom had a pistol), 
made our retreat for near a quarter of a mile, when we took shelter in 
a house, where we were besieged, and at length forced to submit to be 
prisoners. Lord Hatton with some others were taken prisoners in the 
llight, and his lordship was confined under three locks, and as many- 
doors, in this rude fellow's master's house, who pretended to be steward 
to Monsieur St. Germain, one of the Presidents of the Grand Chambre 
du Parlement, and a Canon of Notre Dame. Several of us were much 
hurt. One of our lacquies escaping to Paris, caused the bailiff of St. 
Germain to come with his guard and rescue us. Immediately afterwards 
came Monsieur St. Germain himself in great wrath on hearing that his 
housekeeper was assaulted ; but when he saw the king's officers, the 
gentlemen and noblemen, with his Majesty's Resident, and understood 
the occasion, he was ashamed of the accident, requesting the fellow's 
pardon, and desiring the ladies to accept their submission and a supper 
at his house." 

And again. May 12th. — " I have often heard that gallant gentleman, 
my Lord Ossory, affirm solemnly that in all the conflicts he ever was in, 
at sea or on land (in the most desperate of which he had often been), he 
believed he was never in so much danger as when these people rose 
against us. He used to call it the hattaile de Vamhre, and remember it 
with a great deal of mirth as an adventure en cavalier.' ^'\ 

His death was occasioned by a fever, 30th July, 1680, to the grief of 
his family and the public. 

Note 50, Page 107. 
The elder of the Hamiltons. 
Lord Orford, in a note on this passage, mentions George Hamilton, 
and Anthony Hamilton, the author of this present work, as the persons 
here intended to be pointed out ; and towards the conclusion of the volume 
has attempted to disentangle the confusion occasioned by the want of par- 
ticularly distinguishing to which of the gentlemen the several adventures 
belong in which their name occurs. The elder Hamilton, however, here 
described, was, I conceive, neither George nor Anthony, but James Ha- 
milton, their brother, eldest son of Sir George Hamilton, fourth son of the 
Earl of Abercorn, by Mary Butler, third sister to James, the first duke of 
Ormond. This gentleman was a great favourite with King Charles II., 
who m.ade him a groom of his bed-chamber, and colonel of a regiment. 
In an engagement with the Dutch, he had one of his legs taken ofif by a 
cannon-ball, of which wound he died 6th June, 1673, soon after he was 
brought home, and was buried in Westminster-abbey. George Hamilton 
was afterwards knighted, made a count in France, and mareschal-du- 
camp in that service. He married Miss Jennings, hereafter mentioned, 
and died, according to Lodge, in 1667, leaving issue by her, three 
dau£:hters. 



346 NOTKS AND 

Note 51, Page 107 
The lean Sydney, 
Robert Sydney, the third son of the Earl of Leicester, and brother of 
the famous Algernon Sydney, who was beheaded. This is Lord Orford's 
account ; though, no less authority, I should have been incHned to have 
considered Henry Sydney, his younger brother, who was afterwards 
created Earl of Rumney, and died 8th April, 1704, as the person in- 
tended. There are some cirowmstances which seem particularly to point 
to him. Burnet, speaking of him, says, '* he was a graceful man, and 
had lived, long in the court, where he had some adventures that became 
very public. He was a man of a sweet and caressing temper, had no 
malice in his heart, but too great a love of pleasure. He had been sent 
envoy to Holland in the year 1679, where he entered into such particu- 
lar confidences with the prince, that he had the highest measure of his 
trust and favour that any .Englishman ever had." — Burnet's Own 
Times, vol. ii. p. 494. 

In the Essay on Satire, by Dryden and Mulgrave, he is spoken of in 
no very decent terms. 

* And little Sid, for simile renowned. 

Pleasure has always sought, but never found : 

Though all his thoughts on wine and women fall. 

His are so bad, sure he ne'er thinks at all. 

The flesh he lives upon is rank and strong ; 

His meat and mistresses are kept too long. 

But sure we all mistake this pious man, 

Who mortifies his person all he can : 

What we uncharitably take for sin, 

.\re only rules of this odd capuchin ; 

For never hermit, under grave pretence, 

Has lived more contrary to common sense." 
These verses, however, have been applied to Sir Charles Sedley, whose 
name was originally spelled Sidley. Robert Sydney died at Penshurst, 
1674. 

Note 52, Page 108. 
The queen- dowager, his mistress, lived not over well in France, 
To what a miserable state the queen was reduced may be seen in the 
following extract from De Retz.— '' Four or five days before the king 
removed from Paris, I went to visit the Queen of England^ whom I found 
in her daughter's chamber, who hath been since Duchess of Orleans. At 
my coming in she said, ' You see I am come to keep Henrietta company. 
The poor child could not rise to-day for want of a fire.' The truth is, 
that the cardinal for six months together had not ordered her any money 
towards her pension ; that no trades-people would trust her for any thing; 
and that there was not at her lodgings in the Louvre one single billet. 
You will do me the justice to suppose, that the Princess of England did 
not keep her bed the next day for want of a faggot ; but it was not this 
which the Princess of Conde meant in her letter. What she spoke about 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 347 

was, that some days after my visiting the Queen of England, I remem- 
bered the condition I had found her in, and had strongly represented the 
shame of abandoning her in that manner, which caused the parliament to 
send 40,000 livres to her majesty. Posterity will hardly believe that a 
Princess of England, grand-daughter of Henry the Great, had wanted a 
faggot, in the month of January, to get out of bed in the Louvre, and in 
the eyes of a French court. We read in histories, with horror, of base- 
ness less monstrous than this ; and the little concern I have met with 
about it in most people's minds, has obliged me to make, I believe, a 
thousand times, this reflection, — that examples of times past move men 
beyond comparison more than those of their own times. We accustom 
ourselves to what we see ; and I have sometimes told you, that I doubted 
whether Caligula's horse being made a consul would have surprised us so 
much as we imagine.'' — Memoirs, vol. i. p. 261. As for the relative 
situation of the king and Lord Jermyn (afterwards St. Alban's), Lord 
Clarendon says, that the *' Marquis of Ormond was compelled to put 
himself in prison, with other gentlemen, at a pistole a-week for his diet, 
and to walk the streets a-foot, which was no honourable custom in Paris, 
whilst the Lord Jermyn kept an excellent table for those who courted 
him, and had a coach of his own, and all other accommodations incident 
to the most full fortune ; and if the king had the most urgent occasion 
for the use but of twenty pistoles, as sometimes he had, he could not f.nd 
credit to borrow it, which he often had experiment of.'' — History of the 
Rebellion^ vol. iii. p. 2. 

Note 53, Page 108. 
Jermyn, 
Henry Jermyn, younger son of Thomas, elder brother of the Earl of 
St. Alban's. He was created Baron Dover in 1685, and died without 
children, at Cheveley, in Cambridgeshire, April 6, 1708. His corpse 
was carried to Bruges, in Flanders, and buried in the monastery of the 
Carmelites there. St. Evremont, who visited Mr. Jermyn at Cheveley, 
says, " we went thither, and were very kindly received by a person, who, 
though he has taken his leave of the court, has carried the civility and 
good taste of it into the country." — St. Evremont' s Works, vol. ii. 
p. 223. 

Note 54, Page 108. 

The princess-royal was the first who was taJcen with him. 

It was suspected of this princess to have had a similar engagement 

with the Duke of Buckingham as the queen with Jermyn, and that was 

the cause she would not see the duke on his second voyage to Holland, in 

the year 1652. 

Note 55, Page 108, 

The Countess of Castlemaine. 

This lady who made so distinguished a figure in the annals of infamy, 

was Barbara, daughter and heir of WiUiam Villiers, Lord A'iscount Gran- 

dison, of the kingdom of Ireland, who died in 1642, in consequence of 

wounds received at the battle of Edge-hill. She was married, just before 



348 NOTES AXD 

the Restoration, to Roger Palmer, Esq., then a student in the Temple, 
and heir to a considerable fortune. In the 13th year of King Charles II. 
he was created Earl of Castlemaine in the kingdom of Ireland. She had 
a daughter, born in February 1661, while she cohabited with her hus- 
band ; but shortly after she became the avowed mistress of the king, who 
continued his connection with her until about the year 1672, when she 
was delivered of a daughter, which was supposed to be Mr. ChurchiU's, 
afterwards Duke of Marlborough, and which the king disavowed. Her 
gallantries were by no means confined to one or two, nor were they un- 
known to his majesty. In the year 1670, she was created Baroness of 
Nonsuch, in Surrey, Countess of Southampton, and Duchess of Cleve- 
land, during her natural life, with remainder to Charles and George Fitz- 
roy, her eldest and third son, and their heirs male. In July 1705, her 
husband died, and she soon after married a man of desperate fortune, 
known by the name of Handsome Fielding, who behaving in a manner 
unjustifiably severe towards her, she was obliged to have recourse to law 
for her protection. Fortunately it was discovered that Fielding had 
already a wife living, by which means the duchess was enabled to free her- 
self from his authority. She lived about two years afterwards, and died 
of a dropsy, on the 9th of October, 1709, in her 69th year. Bishop Bur- 
net says, *' she was a woman of great beauty, but most enormously 
vicious and ravenous ; foolish, but imperious ; very uneasy to the king, 
and always carrying on intrigues with other men, while yet she pretended 
she was jealous of him. His passion for her, and her strange behaviour 
towards him, did so disorder him, that often he was not master of himself, 
nor capable of minding business, which, in so critical a time, required 
great application." — Burnet's Own TimeSy vol. i. p. 129. 

[The following amusing morceaux, extracted from Pepys, are highly 
illustrative : — ** May 21st, 1662. — My wife and I to my lord's lodging ; 
where she and I stayed walking in White Hall garden. And in the Privy 
garden saw the finest smocks and linen petticoats of my Lady Castle- 
maine's, with rich lace at the bottom, that ever I saw ; and did me good 
to look at them. Sarah told me how the king dined at my Lady Castle- 
maine's, and supped every day and night the last week ; and that the 
night the bonfires were made for joy of the queen's arrival, the king 
was there ; but there was no fire at her door, though at all the rest of the 
doors almost in the street ; which was much observed : and that the 
king and she did send for a pair of scales and weighed one another ; and 
she, being with child, was said to be heaviest. But she is now a most 
disconsolate creature, and comes not out of doors, since the king's 
going." 

''July 22nd, 1663. — In discourse of the ladies at court, Capt. Ferrers 
tells me that my Lady Castlemaine is now as great again as ever she was ; 
and that her going away was only a fit of her own upon some slighting 
words of the king, so that she called for her coach at a quarter of an 
hour's warning, and went to Richmond ; and the king, the next morning, 
under pretence of going a hunting, went to see her and make friends, 
and never was a hunting at all. After which she came back to court, and 
commands the king as much as ever, and hath and doth what she will. 
No longer ago than last night, there was a private entertainment made 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 349 

for the king and queen at the Duke of Buckingham's, and she was not 
invited : but being at my Lady Suffolk's, her aunt's (where my Lady 
Jemimah and Lord Sandwich dined), yesterday, she was heard to say, 
** Well, much good may it do them, and for all that I will be as merry 
as they :" and so she went home and caused a great supper to be pre- 
pared. And after the king had been with the queen at Wallingford 
House, he come to my Lady Castlemaine's, and was there all night, and 
my Lord Sandwich with him. He tells me he believes that, as soon as 
the king can get a husband for Mrs. Stewart, however, my Lady Castle- 
maine's nose will be out of joint ; for that she comes to be in great 
esteem, and is more handsome than she." 

" June 10th, 1666. — The queen, in ordinary talk before the ladies 
in her drawing-room, did say to my Lady Castlemaine that she feared the 
king did take cold, by staying so late abroad at her house. She answered 
before them all, that he did not stay so late abroad with her, for he went 
betimes thence (though he do not before one, two, or three in the 
morning), but must stay somewhere else. The king then coming in and 
overhearing, did whisper in her ear aside, and told her she was a bold 
impertinent woman, and bid her to be gone out of the court, and not 
come again till he sent for her ; which she did presently, and went to a 
lodging in the Pall Mall, and kept there two or three days, and then sent 
to the king to know whether she might send for her things away out of 
her house. The king sent to her, she must first come and view them : 
and so she come, and the king went to her, and all friends again. He 
tells me she did, in her anger, say she would be even with the king, and 
print his letters to her." 

** Aug. 7th, 1667. — Though the king and my Lady Castlemaine are 
friends again, she is not at White Hall, but at Sir D. Harvey's, whither 
the king goes to her ; and he says she will make him ask her forgiveness 
upon his knees, and promise to offend her no more so : and that, indeed, 
she did threaten ta bring all his bastards to his closet-door, and hath 
nearly hectored him out of his wits."] 



Note 56, Page 109. 

Lady Shrewsbury. 

Anna Maria, Countess of Shrewsbury, eldest daughter of Robert Bru- 
denel. Earl of Cardigan, and wife of Francis, Earl of Shrewsbury, who 
was killed in a duel, by George, Duke of Buckingham, March 16, 1667. 
She afterwards re-married with George Rodney Bridges, Esq., second son 
of Sir Thomas Bridges of Keynsham, in Somersetshire, knight, and died 
April 20, 1702. By her second husband she had one son, George Rodney 
Bridges, who died in 1751. This woman is said to have been so aban- 
doned, as to have held, in the habit of a page, her gallant, the duke's 
horse, while he fought and killed her husband ; after which she went to 
bed with him, stained with her husband's blood. 

[Pepys says, in his Diary, Jan. 17th, 1667-8. — *' Much discourse of 
the duel yesterday between the Duke of Buckingham, Holmes, and one 



650 NOTES AND 

Jenkins, on one side, and my Lord of Shrewsbury, Sir John Talbot, and 
one Bernard Howard, on the other side : and all about my Lady Shrews- 
bury, who is at this time, and hath for a great while been, a mistress to 
the Duke of Buckingham. And so her husband challenged him, and 
they met yesterday in a close near Barne-Elmes, and there fought : and 
my Lord Shrewsbury is run through the body, from the right breast 
through the shoulder ; and Sir John Talbot all along up one of his 
arms ; and Jenkins killed upon the place, and the rest all in a little 
measure wounded. This will make the world think that the king hath 
good counsellors about him, when the Duke of Buckingham, the greatest 
man about him, is a fellow of no more sobriety than to fight about a 
mistress. And this may prove a very bad accident to the Duke of 
Buckingham, but that my Lady Castlemaine do rule all at this time as 
much as ever she did, and she will, it is believed, keep all matters well 
with the Duke of Buckingham : though this is a time that the king will 
be very backward, I suppose, to appear in such a business. And it is 
pretty to hear how the king had some notice of this challenge a week or 
two ago, and did give it to my Lord General to confine the duke, or 
take security that he should not do any such thing as fight : and the 
general trusted to the king that he, sending for him, would do it ; and 
the king trusted to the general. And it is said that my Lord Shrews- 
bury's case is to be feared, that he may die too ; and that may make it 
much worse for the Duke of Buckingham : and I shall not be much sorry 
for it, that we may have some sober man come in his room to assist in 
the Government." 

And again, ** May 15th, 1668. — I am told that the Countess of 
Shrewsbury is brought home by the Duke of Buckingham to his house ; 
where his duchess saying that it was not for her and the other to live 
together in a house, he answered, * Why, madam, I did think so, and 
therefore have ordered your coach to be ready to carry you to your 
father's ;' which was a devilish speech, but, they say, true ; and my 
Lady Shrewsbury is there, it seems."] 

Note 57, Page 109. 
The Miss Brooks. 
One of these ladies married Sir John Denham, and is mentioned here- 
after. 

Note 58, Page 109. 
The neiv queen Qave hut little additional brilliancy to the court. 
Lord Clarendon confirms, in some measure, this account. ** There was 
a numerous family of men and wom^en, that were sent from Portugal, the 
most improper to promote that conformity in the queen that was necessary 
for her condition and future happiness that could be chosen ; the women, 
for the most part, old, and ugly, and proud, incapable of any conversation 
with persons of quality and a liberal education : and they desired, and in- 
deed had conspired so far to possess the queen themselves, that she should 
neither learn the English language, nor use their habit, nor depart from 
the manners and fashions cf her own country in any particulars ; which 



illustratio:ns. ^-^ • 

resolution," they told, '' would be for the dignity of Portugal, and would 
quickly induce the English ladies to conform to her majesty s practice 
A.nd this imagination had made that impression, that the tailor who had 
been sent into Portugal to make her clothes could never be admitted to 
see her, or receive any employment. Nor when she came to Portsmouth 
and found there several ladies of honour and prime quahty to attend her 
in the places to which they were assigned by the king, did she receive any 
of them till the king himself came ; nor then with any grace, or the liberty 
that belonged to their places and offices. She could not be persuaded to 
be dressed out of the wardrobe that the king had sent to her but would 
wear the clothes which she had brought, until she found that the king was 
displeased, and would be obeyed ; whereupon she conformed, against the 
advice of her women, who continued their opiniatrety, without any one ot 
them receding from their own mode, which exposed them the more to 
revToach."- Continuation of Clarendon's Life, p. 168. In a short time 
after their arrival in England, they were ordered back to Portugal. 

Note 59, Page 110. 

Katherine of Braganza was far from appearing with splendour in the 
charming court where she came to reign; however, m the end she was 
pretty successful, 

[Evelyn says, *' May 30th, 1662.— The queen arrived with a train of 
Portuguese ladies in their monstrous fardingals or guard -infantas, their 
complexions olivader, and sufficiently unagreeable. Her Majesty m 
the same habit, her foretop long and turned aside very strangely. She was 
yet of the handsomest countenance of all the rest, and, though low ot 
stature, prettily shaped, languishing and excellent eyes, her teeth wronging 
her mouth by sticking a little too far out ; for the rest lovely enough. ] 

Lord Clarendon says, " the queen had beauty and wit enough to make 
herself agreeable to him (the king;) and it is very certain, that, at their 
first meeting, and for some time after, the king had very good satisfaction 
in her."—*' Though she was of years enough to have had more experience 
of the world, and of as much wit as could be wished, and of a humour 
very agreeable at some seasons, yet, she had been bred, according to the 
mode and disciphne of her country, in a monastery, where she had only 
seen the women who attended her, and conversed with the religious who 
resided there ; and, without doubt, inherincUnations, was enough disposed 
to have been one of that number : and from this restraint she was called 
out to be a great queen, and to a free conversation in a court that was to 
be upon the matter new formed, and reduced from the manners of a hcen- 
tious age to the old rules and limits which had been observed m better 
times ; to which regular and decent conformity the present disposition of 
men or women was not enough inclined to submit, nor the king enough 
disposed to ex^ct^ —Continuation of Lord Clarendon's Life, p. 16/. 
After some struggle, she submitted to the king's hcentious conduct, and 
from that time lived upon easy terms with him, until his death. On the 
30th of March, 1692, she left Somerset-house, her jisual residence, and 
retired to Lisbon, where she died 31st December, 1705, n. s. 



S3)i NOTES AND 

Note 60, Page 110. 5 

This princess. { 

** The Duchess of York/' says Bishop Burnet, ** was a very extraordi- . 
nary woman. She had great knowledge, and a lively sense of things. 
She soon understood what belonged to a princess, and took state on her 
rather too much. She writ well, and had begun the duke's life, of which 
she shewed me a volume. It was all drawn from his journal ; and he in- 
tended to have employed me in carrying it on. She was bred in great 
strictness in religion, and practised secret confession. Morley told me he 
was her confessor. She began at twelve years old, and continued under 
his direction till, upon her father's disgrace, he was put from the court. 
She was generous and friendly, but was too severe an enemy." — Bur- 
nefs Own Times, vol. i. p. 237. She was contracted to the duke 
at Breda, November 24, 1659, and married at Worcester-house, 3rd 
September, 1660, in the night, betvveen eleven and two, by Dr. Joseph 
Crowther, the duke's chaplain ; the Lord Ossory giving her in marriage, 
— Kennefs Refjister, p, 246. She died 31st March, 1671, having pre- 
viously acknowledged herself to be a Roman Catholic. — See also her 
character by Bishop Morley. — Kennefs Register j p. 385, 390, 

Note 61, Page 110. 
The Queen-dowager returned after the marriage of the Princess-royaL 
Queen Henrietta Maria arrived at Whitehall, 2nd November, 1660, 
after nineteen years' absence. She was received with acclamations ; and 
bonfires were lighted on the occasion, both in London and Westminster. 
She returned to France with her daughter, the Princess Henrietta, 2nd Ja- 
nuary, 1660-1. She arrived again at Greenwich, 28th July, 1662, and 
continued to keep her court in England, until July, 1665, when she em- 
barked for France, '' and took so many things with her,'' says Lord Cla- 
rendon, " that it was thought by many that she did not intend ever to 
return into England. Whatever her intentions at that time were, she 
never did see England again, though she lived many years after." — Conti- 
nuation of Clarendon's Life, p. 263. She died at Colombe, near Paris, 
in August, 1669 ; and her son, the Duke of York, pronounces this eulo- . 
gium on her : " She excelled in all the good qualities of a good wife, of a 
good mother, and a good Christian." — Macpherson's Original PajjerSy 
vol. i. 

Note 62, Page 112. 
St, Evremond. 
Charles de St. Dennis, Seigneur de St. Evremond, was born at St. ; 
Denis le Guast, in Lower Normandy, on the 1st of April, 1613. He was v 
educated at Paris, with a view to the profession of the law ; but he early r 
quitted tliat pursuit, and went into the army, where he signalized himself 
on several occasions. At the time of the Pyrenean treaty, he wrote a let- 
ter censuring the conduct of Cardinal Mazarine, which occasioned his being- 
banished France. He first took refuge in Holland ; but, in 1662, he re- 
moved into England, where he continued, with a short interval, during the 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 3/33 

rest of his life. In 1675, the Duchess of Mazarine came to reside in Eng- 
land ; and with her St. Evremond passed much of his time. He preserved 
his health and cheerfulness to a very great age, and died 9th of September, 
1703, aged ninety years, five months, and twenty days. His biographer, 
Monsieur Pes Maizeaux, describes him thus : — *' M. de St. Evremond had 
blue, lively, and sparkling eyes, a large forehead, thick eye-brows, a hand- 
some mouth, and a sneering physiognomy. Twenty years before his death, 
a wen grew between his eye-brows, which in time increased to a consider- 
able bigness. He once designed to have it cut off, but as it was no ways 
troublesome to him, and he little regarded that kind of deformity, Dr. Le 
Fevre advised him to let it alone, lest such an operation should be attended 
with dangerous symptoms in a man of his age. He would often make 
merry with himself on account of his wen, his great leather-cap, and his grey 
hair, which he chose to wear rather than a periwig." St. Evremond was 
a kind of Epicurean philosopher, and drew his own character in the follow- 
ing terms, in a letter to Count de Grammont : — ** He was a philosopher 
equally removed from superstition and impiety ; a voluptuary who had no 
less aversion from debauchery than inclination for pleasure i a man who 
had never felt the pressure of indigence, and who had never been in pos- 
session of affluence ; he lived in a condition despised by those who have 
every thing, envied by those who have nothing, and relished by those who 
make their reason the foundation of their happiness. When he was young 
he hated profusion, being persuaded that some degree of wealth was ne- 
cessary for the conveniences of a long life : when he was old, he could hardly 
endure economy, being of opinion that want is little to be dreaded when 
a man has but little time left to be miserable. He was well pleased witli 
nature, and did not complain of fortune. He hated vice, was indulgent 
to frailties, and lamented misfortunes. He sought not after the failings 
of men with a design to expose them ; he only found what was ridiculous 
in them for his own amusement : he had a secret pleasure in discovering 
this himself, and would, indeed, have had a still greater in discovering this 
to others, had he not been checked by discretion. Life, in his opinion, 
was too short to read all sorts of books, and to burden one^s memory with 
a multitude of things, at the expense of one's judgment. He did not ap- 
ply himself to the most learned writings, in order to acquire knowledge, 
but to the most rational, to fortify his reason : he sometimes chose the 
most delicate, to give delicacy to his own taste, and sometimes the most 
agreeable, to give the same to his own genius. It remains that he should 
be described, such as he was, in friendship and in religion. In friendship 
he was more constant than a philosopher, and more sincere than a young 
man of good nature without experience. With regard to religion, his piety 
consisted more in justice and charity than in penance or mortification. He 
placed his confidence in God, trusting in his goodness, and hoping that in 
the bosom of his providence he should find his repose and his felicity.'' — 
He was buried in Westminster Abbev. 



354 NOTES AND 

Note G3, Page 112. 

Avoid love, by pur stung oilier jAeasures ; loveJias never he en favourable 

to you. 

** Saint Evremond and Bussi-Rabutin, who have also written on the 
life of the Count de Grammont, agree with Hamilton in representing him 
as a man less fortunate in love than at play ; not seeking for any other 
pleasure in the conquest of a woman but that of depriving another of her ; 
and not able to persuade any one of his passion, because he spoke to her, 
as at all other times, in jest ; but cruelly revenging himself on those who 
refused to hear him ; corrupting the servants of those whom they did 
favour, counterfeiting their hand-writing, intercepting their letters, dis- 
concerting their rendezvous ; in one word, disturbing their amours by 
every thing which a rival, prodigal, indefatigable, and full ol artifice, can 
be imagined to do. The straightest ties of blood could not secure any one 
from his detraction. His nephew, the Count de Guiche, was a victim ; 
he had, in truth, offended the Count de Grammont, by having supplanted 
him in the affection of the Countess de Fiesque, whom he loved afterwards 
for the space of twelve years. Here was enough to irritate the self-love 
of a man less persuaded of his own merit." 

Hamilton does not describe the exterior of the count, but accuses Bussi- 
Rabutin of having, in the following description, given a more agreeable 
than faithful portrait of him : — '* The Chevalier had laughing eyes, a well- 
formed nose, a beautiful mouth, a small dimple in the chin, which had an 
agreeable effect on his countenance, a certain delicacy in his physiognomy, 
and a handsome shape, if he had not stooped." 

Note 64, Page 114. 
D^Olonne. 
Mademoiselle de la Loupe, who is mentioned in De Retz's Memoirs, 
vol. iii. p. 95. She married the Count d'Olonne, and became famous 
for her gallantries, of which the Count de Bussi speaks so much, in his 
" History of the Amours of the Gauls." Her maiden name was Catherine 
Henrietta d'Angennes, and she was daughter to Charles d'Angennes, Lord 
of la Loupe, Baron of Amberville, by Mary du Raynier. There is a long 
character of her by St. Evremond, in his works, vol. i. p. 17. The same 
writer, mentioning the concern of some ladies for the death of the Duke 
of Candale, says, " But his true mistress (the Countess d'Olonne) made 
herself famous by the excess of her affliction, and had, in my opinion, 
been happy, if she had kept it on to the last. One amour is creditable to 
a lady ; and I know not v/hether it be not more advantageous to their 
reputation than never to have been in love." — St. Etiremond's Wor/cs^ 
vol. ii. p. 24. 

Note 65, Page 114. 

The Countess de Fiesque. 
This lady seems to have been the wife of the Count de Fiesque, who is 
mentioned by St. Evremond, as " fruitful in miUtary chimeras ; who, be- 
sides the post of lieutenant-general, which he had at Paris, obtained a parti- 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 355 

cular commission for the beating up of the quarters, and other rash and 
sudden exploits, which may be resolved upon whilst one is singing the air 
of La Barre, or dancing a minuet." — St. Evremond's Works, vol. i. p. 6, 
The count's name occurs very frequently in De Retz's Memoirs. 

KoTE GQ, Page 115. 
Mr. Jones, afterwards Earl of Hanelagh. 
Richard, the first Earl of Ranelagh, was member of the English house 
of Commons, and vice-treasurer of Ireland, 1674. He held several offices 
under King William and Queen Anne, and died 5th January, 1711. 
Bishop Burnet says, *' Lord Ranelagh was a young man of great parts, and as 
great vices : he had a pleasantness in his conversation that took much with 
the king ; and had a great dexterity in business." — Burnetts Own Times y 
vol. i. p. 373. 

Note 67, Page 116. 
Amongst the queen^s maids of honour there was one called Warmestre, 
Lord Orford observes, that there is a family of the name of Warminster 
settled at Worcester, of which five persons are interred in the cathedral. 
One of them was dean of the church, and his epitaph mentions his attach- 
ment to the royal family. Miss Warminster, however, was probably 
a fictitious name. The last Earl of Arran, who lived only a short time 
after the period these transactions are supposed to have happened, asserted, 
that the maid of honour here spoken of was Miss Mary Kirk, sister of 
the Countess of Oxford, and who, three years after she was driven from 
court, married Sir Thomas Vernon, under the supposed character of a 
widow. It was not improbable she then assumed the name of Warminster. 
In the year 1669, the following is the list of the maids of honour to the 
queen: — 1. Mrs. Simona Carew. 2. Mrs. Catherine Bainton. 3. Mrs. 
Henrietta Maria Price. 4. Mrs. Winifred Wells. The lady who had then 
the office of mother of the maids was Lady Saunderson. — See Chamber- 
layne^s Anglice Notitia^ 1669, p. 301. 

Note 68, Page 116. 
Mrs. Middleton. 
Mrs. Jane Middleton, according to Granger, was a woman of small 
fortune, but great beauty. Her portrait is in the gallery at Windsor. 

Note 69, Page 117. 
Miss Stewart. 
. Frances, Duchess of Richmond, daughter of Walter Stewart, son of 
Walter, Baron of Blantyre, and wife of Charles Stewart, Duke of Rich- 
mond and Lennox : a lady of exquisite beauty, if justly represented in a 
puncheon made by Roettiere, his majesty's engraver of the mint, in order 
to strike a medal of her, which exhibits the finest face that perhaps was 
ever seen. The king was supposed to be desperately in love with her ; 

2 A 2 



S5G NOTES AND 

and it became common discourse, that there was a design on foot to get 
him divorced from the queen, in order to marry this lady. [Pepys describes 
her as the greatest beauty he ever saw in his life : ** With her cocked hat 
and a red plume, with her sweet eye, little Roman nose, and excellent 
taille ;" and adds, ** If ever woman can, do exceed my Lady Castlemaine, at 
least in this dress : nor do I wonder if the king changes, which I verily be- 
lieve is the reason of his coldness to myLady Castlemaine/'] Lord Claren- 
don was thought to have promoted the match with the Duke of Richmond, 
thereby to prevent the other design, which he imagined would hurt the ; 
king's character, embroil his affairs at present, and entail all the evils of | 
a disputed succession on the nation. Whether he actually encouraged the » 
Duke of Richmond's marriage, doth not appear ; but it is certain that he I 
was so strongly possessed of the king's inclination to a divorce, that, even 
after his disgrace, he was persuaded the Duke of Buckingham had under- 
taken to carry that matter through the parliament. It is certain too that 
the king considered him as the chief promoter of Miss Stewart's marriage, 
and resented it in the highest degree. The ceremony took place privately, 
and it was publicly declared in April, 1667. From one of Sir Robert 
Southwell's dispatches, dated Lisbon, December f^^ 1667, it appears 
that the report of the queen's intended divorce had not then subsided in 
her native country. — History of the Revolutions of Portugal, 1740, p. 
352. The duchess became a widow in 1672, and died October 15, 1702. 
See Burnefs History, Ludlow's Memoirs, and Cartels Life of the Duke 
of Ormond. A figure in wax of this duchess is still to be seen in West- 
minster Abbey. 

Note 70, Page 118. 
Mrs. Hyde, 
Theodosia, daughter of Arthur, Lord Capel, first wife of Henry Hyde, 
the second Earl of Clarendon. 

Note 71, Page 118. 
Jacoh Hall, the famous rope-dancer, 
" There was a symmetry and elegance, as well as strength and agility, 
in the person of Jacob Hall, which was much admired by the ladies, who 
regarded him as a due composition of Hercules and Adonis. The open- 
hearted Duchess of Cleveland was said to have been in love with this 
rope-dancer and Goodman the player at the same time. The former 
received a salary from her grace." — Granger, vol. ii. part ii. p. 461. 

Note 72, Page 119. 
Thomas Hoicard, Irother to the Earl of Carlisle, 
Thomas Howard, fourth son of Sir WiUiam Howard. He married 
Mary, Duchess of Richmond, daughter of George Villiers, Duke of Buck- 
ingham, and died 1678. — See Mad. Dunois's Memoirs of the Englii^h 
Court, 8vo., 1708. ; 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 357 

Note 73, Page 119. 
Sj^ring- garden. 
This place appears, from the description of its situation in the follow- 
ing extract, and in some ancient plans, to have been near Charing-cross, 
probably where houses are novr built, though still retaining the name of 
gardens. The entertainments usually to be met with there are thus 
described by a contemporary writer : ** The manner is, as the company 
returns [i. e. from Hyde-park), to alight at the Spring-garden, so called 
in order to the parke, as our Thuilleries is to the course : the inclosure 
not disagreeable, for the solemness of the grove, the warbling of the birds, 
and as it opens into the spacioiu ivalJcs at St, Jameses ; but the com- 
pany walk in it at such a rate, you would think all the ladies were so 
many Atalantas contending with their wooers ; and, my lord, there was 
no appearance that I should prove Hippomenes, who could with much 
ado keep pace with them : but as fast as they run, they stay there so long 
as if they wanted not time to finish the race ; for it is usual here to find 
some of the young company till midnight ; and the thickets of the garden 
seem to be contrived to all advantages of gallantry, after they have re- 
freshed with the collation, which is here seldom omitted, at a certain 
cabaret, in the middle of this paradise, where the forbidden fruits are 
certain trifling tarts, neats' tongues, salicious meats, and bad Rhenish, 
for which the gallants pay sauce, as indeed they do at all such houses 
throughout England ; for they think it a piece of frugality beneath them 
to bargain or account for what they eat in any place, however unrea- 
sonably imposed upon." — Character of England ^ 12mo., 1659, p. 5G, 
written, it is said, by John Evelyn, Esq. Spring-garden is the scene of 
intrigue in many of our comedies of this period. 

Note 74, Page 121. 
This was Montagu. 
Ralph Montagu, second son of Edward, Lord Montagu. He was 
master of the horse to the queen, and, in 1669, was sent ambassador 
extraordinary to Erance ; on his return from whence, in January, 1672, 
he was sworn of the privy-council. He afterwards became master of the 
great wardrobe, and was sent a second time to France. He took a very 
decided part in the prosecution of the popish plot, in 1678 ; but on the 
sacrifice of his friend. Lord Russell, he retired to Montpelier during the 
rest of King Charles's reign. He was active at the Revolution, and soon 
after created Viscount Monthermer, and Earl of Montagu. In 1705, ne 
became Marquis of Monthermer, and Duke of Montagu. He died 7th 
March, 1709, in his 73rd year, leaving behind him the character of a very 
indulgent parent, a kind and bountiful master, a very hearty friend, a 
noble patron of men of merit, and a true assertor of English liberty. 

Note 75, Page 122. 
Miss Hamilton. 
Elizabeth, sister of the author of these Memoirs, and daughter of Sir 
George Hamilton, fourth son of James, the first Earl of Abercorn, by 



S5S NOTES AKD 

Mary, third daughter of Thomas, Viscount Thurles, eldest son of Walter, 
eleventh Earl of Ormond, and sister to James, the first Duke of Ormond. 
She married Philibert, Count of Grammont, the hero of these Memoirs, 
by whom she had two daughters : Claude Charlotte, married, 3rd April, 
1694, to Henry, Earl of Stafford ; and another, who became superior, or 
abbess, of the Chanonesses in Lorraine. 

Note 76, Page 125. 
Ladi/ MusJcerry. 

Lady iNIargaret, only child of Ulick, fifth Earl of Clanricarde, by Lady 
Anne Compton, daughter of William, Earl of Northampton, She was 
three times married : — 1. To Charles, Lord Viscount Muskerry, who lost 
his life in the great sea-fight with the Dutch, 3rd June, 1665. 2. In 
1676, to Robert Villiers, called Viscount Purbeck, who died in 1685. 
3. To Robert Fielding, Esq. She died in August, 1698. Lord Orford, 
by mistake, calls her Elizabeth, daughter of the Earl of Kildare. — See 
note 149. 

Note 17, Page 125. 
Miss Blague. 

It appears, by Chamherloyne^s Anglice Notitia, 1669, that this lady, 
or perhaps her sister, continued one of the duchess's maids of honour at 
that period. The list, at that time, w^as as follows : — 1. Mrs. Arabella 
Churchill. 2. Mrs. Dorothy Howard. 3. Mrs. Anne Ogle. 4. Mrs. 
Mary Blague. The mother of the maids then was Mrs. Lucy Wise. 
Miss Blague performed the part of Diana, in Crown's Calisto, acted at 
court in 1675, and was then styled late maid of honour to the queen. 
Lord Orford, however, it should be observed, calls her Henrietta Maria, 
daughter of Colonel Blague. It appears, she became the wife of Sir 
Thomas Yarborough, of Snaith, in Yorkshire. She was also, he says, 
sister of the wife of Sydney, Lord Godolphin. That nobleman married, 
according to Collins, in his peerage, Margaret, at that time maid of ho- 
• nour to Katherine, Queen of England, fourth daughter, and one of the 
co-heirs of Thomas Blague, Esq., groom of the bed-chamber to Charles T. 
and Charles II., colonel of a regiment of foot, and governor of Walling- 
ford during the civil wars, and governor of Yarmouth and Landgiiard 
Fort, after the Restoration. 

Note 78, Page 129. 
Prince Rupert. 
Grandson of James the First, whose actions during the civil wars are 
well known. He was born 19th December, 1619, and died at his house 
in Spring Gardens, November 22, 1682. Lord Clarendon says of him, 
that " he was rough and passionate, and loved not debate ; liked what was 
proposed, as he liked the persons who proposed it ; and was so great an 
enemy to Digby and Colepepper, who were only present in the debates 
of the war with the officers, that he crossed all they proposed." — History 
of the Rel/ellion, vol. ii. p. 554. He is supposed to have invented the 
art of mezzotin^o. — See note 151. 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 059 

Note 79, Page 129. 

Lord Thanet. 
This nobleman, I believe, was John Tufton, second Earl of Thanet, 
who died 6th May, 1664. Lord Orford, however, imagines him to have 
been Nicholas Tufton, the third Earl of Thanet, his eldest son, who died 
24th November, 1679. Both these noblemen suffered much for their 
loyalty. 

Note 80, Page 130. 

Young wild hoards eyes. 

Marcassin is French for a wild boar ; the eyes of this creature being 

remarkably small and lively, from thence the French say, " Des yeux 

marcassins," to signify little, though roguish eyes; or, as we S3ij, pig's 

eyes. 

Note 81, Page 131. 
Miss Price, one of the maids of honour to the duchess. 
Our author's memory here fails him ; Miss Price was maid of honour 
to the queen. Mr. Granger says, "There was a Lady Price, a fine 
woman, who was daughter of Sir Edmund Warcup,'' concerning whom, 
see Wood's Fasti Oocon. ii. 184. Her father had the vanity to think 
that Charles II. would marry her, though he had then a queen. There 
were letters of his wherein he mentioned, that " his daughter was one 
night and t'other with the king, and very graciously received by him." — 
Granger, vol. iv. p. 338. 

Note 82, Page 132. 
Duncan. 
I believe this name should be written Dongan. Lord Orford says, of 
this house were the ancient earls of Limerick. 

Note 83, Page 135. 
Duchess of Newcastle. 

[Pepys, in his Diary, April 11th, 1667, says :— *' To Whitehall, think- 
ing there to have seen the Duchess of Newcastle coming this night to 
court to make a visit to the queen, the king having been with her yester- 
day to make her a visit since her coming to town. The whole story of 
this lady is a romance, and all she does is romantic. Her footmen in vel- 
vet coats, and herself in an antique dress, as they say ; and was the other 
day at her own play, ' The Humorous Lovers,' the most ridiculous thing 
that ever was wrote, but yet she and her lord mightily pleased with it ; 
and she at the end made her respects to the players from her box, and did 
give them thanks. There is as much expectation of her coming to court, 
that people may come to see her, as if it were the Queen of Sweden ; but 
I lost my labour, for she did not come this night."] 

This fantastic lady, as Lord Orford properly calls her, was the young- 



360 KOTl'S AND 

est daughter of Sir Charles Lucas, and had been one of the maids of ho- 
nour to Charles the First's queen, whom she attended when forced to leave. 
England. At Paris she married the Duke of Newcastle, and continued in 
exile with him until the Restoration. After her return to England, slie 
lived entirely devoted to letters, and published many volumes of pla^s, 
poems, letters, &c. She died in 1G73, and was buried in Westminster 
Abbey. Lord Orford says, there is a whole length of this duchess at 
Welbeck, in a theatric dress, which, tradition says, she generally wore. 
She had always a maid of honour in Vv^aiting during the night, who was 
often called up to register the duchess's conceptions. These were all of a 
literary kind ; for her grace left no children. 

Note 84, Page 137 
The uncle, 
John Russel, third son of Francis, the fourth Earl of Bedford, and 
colonel of the first regiment of foot guards. He died unmarried, in No- 
vember, 1681. 

Note 85, Page 137. 
T/ie nephew, 
William, eldest son of Edward Russel, younger brother of the above 
John Russel. He was standard-bearer to Charles II., and died unmar- 
ried, 1674. He was elder brother to Russel, Earl of Orford. 

Note 86, Page 1-10. 
Henry Howard. 
This was Henry Howard, brother to Thomas, Earl of Arundel, who, 
by a special Act of Parliament, in 1664, was restored to the honours of 
the family, forfeited by the attainder of his ancestor, in the time of Queen 
Elizabeth. On the death of his brother, in 1677, he became Duke of 
Norfolk, and died January 11, 1683-4, at his house in Arundel-street, 
aged 55. 

Note 87, Page 141. 

Toulongeon ivill die without my assistance. 
Count de Toulongeon was elder brother to Count Grammont, who, by 
his death, in 1679, became, according to St. Evremond, on that event, 
one of the richest noblemen at court. — See St. Evremond' s Works, voL 
ii. p. 237. 

Note 88, Page 141. 
Semeat. 
A country seat belonging to the family of the Grammonts* 



ILLUSTRATIONS. "^^ 



Note 89, Page 142. 
He was extreme!;/ handsome. 
Georc'e V^Uiers, the second Duke of Buckingham, was born 30th Jau- 
uarv 1627. Lord Orford observes, " When this extraordinary man, 
" ith the figure and genius of Alcibiades, could equally charm tte presby- 
terian Fairfax and the dissolute Charles ; when he alike ridicu ed that w.tty 
king" nd his solemn chancellor ; when he plotted the ruin ot his country 
with a cabal of bad ministers, or, equally unprincipled, supported its cause 
with bad patriots,-one laments that such parts should have been devoid 
of every virtue; but when Alcibiades turns chemist; when he is a rea. 
bubble and a visionary miser ; when ambition is but a irolic ; when Jie 
worst designs are for the foolishest ends,-contempt extmguishes all re- 
tteclion on his character. .. i i, i„ 

" The portrait of this duke has been drawn by four masterly hands. 
Burnet has hewn it out with his rough chisel ; Count Hamilton toucned it 
with that slight delicacy that finishes while it seems but to sketch ; Dry- 
den catched the living hkeness ; Pope completed the historical resem- 
bls.nce."-Roijal and Noble Authors, vol. u. p. 78. 

Of these four portraits, the second is m the text; the other three wiU 
complete the character of this extraordinary nobleman. 

Bishop Burnet says, he " was a man of noble presence. He had a gteat 
liveliness of wit, and a peculiar faculty of turning all things into ndicule, 
with bold figures, and natural descriptions. He had no son of literature 
only he was drawn into chymistry ; and for some years te thought he w as 
very near the finding the philosopher's stone, which had tJie effect that 
attinds on all such men as he was, when they are drawn in to lay out for 
it He had no principles of religion, virtue, or friendshjp ; plea=aie, 
frolic, or extravagant diversion was all that he laid to heart. He was true 
to nothing ; for he was- not true to himself. He had no steadiness nor 
conduct ; he could keep no secret, nor execute any design wi hout spoil- 
ino-it. He could never fix his thoughts, nor govern his estate, tnough 
thin the greatest in England. He was bred about the king and tor many 
years he had a great ascendant over him ; but he spake ot h,m to all per- 
sons with that contempt, that at last he drew a lasting disgrace upon him- 
self And he at length ruined both body and mmd, fortune and reputa- 
tion equally. The madness of vice appeared in his person m very emmen. 
instances ; since at last he became contemptible and poor, sickly, and sun.-c 
in his parts, as well as in all other respects ; so tnat his conversabGn w-as 
as much avoided as ever it had been courted."-i?«rno'< « 0«-n It.nes, 

vol. i. p. 137. 

iJryden's character of him is in these nnes :— 

" In the first rank of these did Zimri stand ; 
A man so various that he seemed to be 
Not one, but all mankind's epitome : 
Stiff in opinions, alvi'ays in the wrong ; 
AVas every thing by starts, and nothing long, 
But, in the course of one revolving moon, 
Was chymist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon ; 



362 NOTES AND 

Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking, 

Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking. ; 

Blest madman, who could every hour employ * 

With something new to wish or to enjoy ! 

Railing and praising were his usual themes, 

And both, to shew his judgment, in extremes ; 

So over violent, or over civil. 

That every man with him was god or devil. 

In squandering wealth was his peculiar art ; 

Nothing went unrewarded but desert. ' 

Beggar'd by fools, whom still he found too iate ; ; 

He had his jest, and they had his estate : i 

He laugh' d himself from court, then sought relief ] 

By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief; j 

For, spite of him, the weight of business fell \ 

On Absalom and wise Achitophel ; ' 

Thus wicked but in will, of means bereft, j 

He left not faction, but of that was left." 

Absalom and AcJiitopheL ^ 

Pope describes the last scene of this nobleman's life in these lines : — 
*' In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half hung, 
The floors of plaster, and the walls of dung, 
On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with straw, 
With tape-tied curtains, never meant to draw ; 
The George and Garter dangling from that bed, 
Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red. 
Great Villiers lies : — alas ! how chang'd from him, 
That life of pleasure, and that soul of whim I 
Gallant and gay, in Clieveden's proud alcove. 
The bower of wanton Shrewsbury and love ; 
Or, just as gay, at council, in a ring 
Of mimic' d statesmen, and their merry king. 
No wit, to flatter, left of all his store ! 
No fool to laugh at, which he valued more. 
There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends, 
And fame, this lord of useless thousand ends." 

Moral Essays, Epist. iii. 1. 299. 

He died 16th April, 1688, at the house of a tenant, at Kirby Moor- 
side, near Helmsly, in Yorkshire, aged 61 years, and was buried in West- 
minster-abbey. 

Though this note is already long, the reader will hardly complain at an 
extension of it, by the addition of one more character of this licentious 
nobleman, written by the able pen of the author of Hudibras. ** The 
Duke of Bucks is one that has studied the whole body of vice. His parts 
are disproportionate to the whole, and, like a monster, he has more of 
some, and less of others, than he should have. He has pulled down all 
that nature raised in him, and built himself up again after a model of 
his own. He has dammed up all those lights that nature made into the 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 363 

noblest prospects of the world, and opened other little blind loop-holes 
backward, by turning day into night, and night into day. His appetite 
to his pleasures is diseased and crazy, like the pica in a woman, that 
longs to eat that which was never made for food, or a girl in the green 
sickness, that eats chalk and mortar. Perpetual surfeits of pleasure have 
filled his mind with bad and vicious humours (as well as his body with a 
nursery of diseases), which makes him affect new and extravagant ways, 
as being sick and tired with the old. Continual wine, women, and music, 
put false values upon things, which, by custom, become habitual, and 
debauch his understanding so, that he retains no right notion nor sense 
of things. And as the same dose of the same physic has no operation 
on those that are much used to it, so his pleasures require a larger pro- 
portion of excess and variety, to render him sensible of them. He rises, 
eats, and goes to bed by the Julian account, long after all others that go 
by the new style, and keeps the same hours with owls and the antipodes. 
He is a great observer of the Tartar customs, and never eats till the great 
cham, having dined, makes proclamation that all the world may go to 
dinner. He does not dwell in his house, but haunts it like an evil spirit, 
that walks all night, to disturb the family, and never appears by day. 
He lives perpetually benighted, runs out of his life, and loses his time as 
men do their ways in the dark : and as blind men are led by their dogs, 
so is he governed by some mean servant or other, that relates to his plea- 
sures. He is as inconstant as the moon which he lives under ; and 
although he does nothing but advise with his pillow all day, he is as 
great a stranger to himself as he is to the rest of the world. His mind 
entertains all things very freely that come and go, but, like guests and 
strangers, they are not welcome if they stay long. This lays him open 
to all cheats, quacks, and impostors, who apply to every particular 
humour while it lasts, and afterwards vanish. Thus, with St. Paul, 
though in a different sense, he dies daily, and only lives in the night. 
He deforms nature, while he intends to adorn her, like Indians that hang 
jewels in their lips and noses. His ears are perpetually drilled with a 
fiddlestick. He endures pleasures with less patience than other men do 
their pains." — Butler^ s Posthumous Works, vol. ii. p. 72. 

[Pepys, in speaking of the release of the duke after his imprisonment 
in the Tower for high treason, says : '' July 17th, 1667. The Duke of 
Buckingham is, it seems, set at liberty without any further charge against 
him or other clearing of him, but let to go out ; which is one of the 
strangest instances of the fool's play, with which all publick things are 
done in this age, that is to be apprehended. And it is said that when he 
was charged with making himself popular (as indeed he is, for many of 
the discontented Parliament, Sir Robert Howard, and Sir Thomas Meres, 
and others, did attend at the council- chamber when he was examined), 
he should answer, that whoever was committed to prison by my Lord 
Chancellor or my Lord Arlington, could not want being popular. But 
it is worth considering the ill state a minister of state is in, under such 
a prince as ours is ; for, undoubtedly, neither of those two great men 
would have been so fierce against the Duke of Buckingham at the council- 
table the other day, had they been assured of the king's good liking, and 



364: NOTES AND 

supporting them therein : whereas, perhaps at the desire of my L:uly 
Castlemaine (who, I suppose, hath at last overcome the king), the Duke 
of Buckingham is well received again, and now these men delivered up 
to the interest he can make for his revenge.'^ 

Pepys also relates the following anecdote of him : — *' July 22nd, 1667. 
Creed tells me of the fray between the Duke of Buckingham (at the 
duke's playhouse the last Saturday) and Henry Killigrew, whom the 
Duke of Buckingham did soundly beat and take away his sword, and 
make a fool of, till the fellow prayed him to spare his life ; and I am 
glad of it, for it seems in this business the Duke of Buckingham did 
ciirry himself very innocently and well, and I wish he had paid this 
fellow's coat well.] 

Note 90, Page 143. I 

Lord Arlington. ' 

Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington, principal secretary of state, and lord- 
chamberlain to King Charles II. : a nobleman whose practices, during that 
reign, have not left his character free from reproach. Mr. Macpherson 
says of him, that he ** supplied the place of extensive talents by an artful 
management of such as he possessed. Accommodating in his principles, 
and easy in his address, he pleased when he was known to deceive ; and 
his manner acquired to him a kind of influence where he commanded no 
respect. He was little calculated for bold measures, on account of his 
natural timidity ; and that defect created an opinion of his moderation 
that was ascribed to virtue. His facility to adopt new measures was for- 
gotten in his readiness to acknowledge the errors of the old. The defi- 
ciency of his integrity was forgiven in the decency of his dishonesty. 
Too weak not to be superstitious, yet possessing too much sense to own 
his adherence to the church of Rome, he lived a Protestant in his outward 
profession, but he died a Catholic. Timidity was the chief characteristic 
cf his mind ; and that being known, he was even commanded by cowards. 
He was the man of the least genius of the party ; but he had most ex- 
perience in that slow and constant current of business, which, perhaps, 
suits affairs of state better than the violent exertions of men of grea 
parts.'' — Original Papers, vol. i. Lord Arlington died July 28, 1685 
See a character of him in Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham's Works. 

Note 91, Page 144. 
He sent to Holland for a wife. 
This lady was Isabella, daughter to Lewis de Nassau, Lord Beverwaert, 
son to Maurice, Prince of Orange, and Count Nassau. By her. Lord 
Arlington had an only daughter, named Isabella, who married, August 
1, 1672, Henry, Earl of Euston, son to King Charles II., by Barbara, 
Duchess of Cleveland, created afterwards Duke of Grafton ; and, after 
his death, to Sir Thomas Hanmer, Bart. She assisted at the coronation 
of King George I., as Countess of Arlington, in her own right, and died 
February 7, 1722-3 



ILLUSTRATI0.X3, 3G5 

Note 92, Page 144. 
Hamilton was, of all the courtiers, the lest qualified, ^c. 
Lord Orford says, this was George Hamilton ; but it evidently refers iv, 
James Hamilton, the eldest brother, already mentioned at p. 107 and note 
50. The whole of the adventures in this book in which the Hamiltons are 
introduced, evidently relate but to two, James and George ; what belongs 
to each is most clearly and distinctly pointed out by the author. 

Note 93, Page 145. 
She was daughter to the Dulce of Ormond, 
\nd second wife of the Earl of Chesterfield. She survived the adven- 
tures here related a very short time, dying in July, 1665, at the age ot 
twenty-iive years. 

Note 94, Page 145. 
The queen was given over hy her iihysicians. 
This happened in October, 1663. Lord Arlington, in a letter to the 
Duke of Ormond, dated the 17th of that month, says, - the condition of 
the queen is much worse, and the physicians give us but little hopes ol 
her recovery: by the next you will hear she is either ma fair way to it, 
or dead : to-morrow is a very critical day with her : God s wiU oe done. 
The king coming to see her this morning, she told him she willingly left 
all the world but him ; which hath very much afflicted his majesty and 
ail the court with \{im:'— Brown's Miscellanea Auhca, 1/02, p. 306. 

Note 95, Page 146. 

The Thames ^cashes the sides of a large though not a magnificent palace 
of the Icings of Great Britain, 
This was Whitehall, which was burnt down, except the banqueting- 
house, 4^1 January, 1698.— See Harleian Miscellany, vol. vi. p. 367. 

Note 96, Page 148. 
Monsieur de Comminge. 
This s-entleman was ambassador in London, from the court of France, 
during the years 1663, 1664, and 1665. Lord Clarendon, speaking ot 
hh.., describes him as something capricious in his nature which made him 
hard to treat with, and not always vacant at the houi-s himself assigned ; 
being hypochondriac, and seldom sleeping without o^mm.- Contznvation 
of Clarendon's Life, p. 263. 

Note 97, Page 148. 
Hyde ParJc, every one knows, is the 'promenade of London, 
The writer already quoted gives this description of the entertainments 
of this place, at this period : — 



366 NOTKS AND 

" I did frequently, in the spring, accompany my lord N into a field 

near the town, which they call Hide Park ; the place not unpleasant, and 
which they use as our Course ; but with nothing of that order, equipage, 
and splendour ; being such an assembly of wretched jades, and hackney 
coaches, as, next a regiment of carr-men, there is nothing approaches the 
resemblance. This parkewas (it seemes) used by the late king and nobi- 
lity for the freshness of the air, and the goodly prospect ; but it is that 
which now (besides all other excises) they pay for here, in England, though 
it be free in all the w^orld besides ; every coach and horse w^hich enters 
buying his mouthful, and permission of the publicane who has purchased 
it; for which the entrance is guarded with porters and long staves/' — 
A Character of England, as it was lately presented to a Nobleman of 
France^ 12mo. 1659, p. 54. 

Note 98, Page 148. 
Coaches with glasses. 

Coaches were first introduced into England in the year 1564. Taylor, 
the water poet {Works, 1630, p. 240), says, — '' One William Boonen, 
a Dutchman, brought first the use of coaches hither ; and the said 
Boonen was Queen Elizabeth's coachman ; for, indeed, a coach was a 
strange monster in those days, and the sight of them put both horse and 
man into amazement.'' Dr. Percy observes, they were first drawn by 
two horses, and that it was the favourite Buckingham, who, about 1619, 
began to draw with six horses. About the same time, he introduced the 
sedan. The Ultimum Vale of John Carleton, 4to. 1663, p. 23, will, in 
a great measure, ascertain the time of the introduction of glass coaches. 
He says, '* I could wish her {i.e. Mary Carleton's) coach (w^hich she 
said my lord TafF bought for her in England, and sent it over to her, 
made of the new fashion, with glasse, very stately ; and her pages and 
acquies were of the same livery), was come for me," &c. For further 
information on the history of coaches, see that very interesting worlc 
BecJcmann^s History of Inventions, new edition, in Bohn's Standard 
Library, 

Note 99, Page 152. 
The Prince of Conde besieged Lerida, 

This was in 1647. Voltaire says ** he, Conde, was accused, upon this 
occasion, in certain books, of a bravado, in having opened the trenches 
to the music of violins ; but these writers were ignorant that this was the 
custom of Spain." — Age of Lewis XIV., chap. 2. 

Note 100, Page 152. 

Marshal de Grammont. 

Anthony, marechal of France. He appears to have quitted the army 

in 1672. " Le Due de la Feuillade est colonel du regiment des gardes 

sur la demission volontaire du Marechal de Grammont." — Henaulfs 

History of France, He died 1678. 



ILLirSTBATIONS. 



367 



Note 101, Page 157. 
Description of Lord Chesterfield. 
PV,ilm the second Earl of Chesterfield. He was constituted, in 1662, 
lord-^l^^mtrlarto tt queen, and colonel of a regiment of foot, June 
13 1667 On November 29, 1679, he was appomted lord-warden and 
chief iustice of the king's forests on this side Trent, and sworn of the 
^rvv council W^ 1680. On November 6, 1682, he was made 

SroHhe riSrd regiment of.foot which with *e -t °nns p^^^^^^^^^ 
ments he resigned on the accession of James II. He lived to the age oi 
^pwids of sTand died, January 28, 1713, at his house m Bloomsbury- 
square. 

Note 102, Page 162. 
The Duke of York's marriage. 
The material facts in this narrative are confirmed by Lord Clarendon. 
-cTntZuMon of his Life, p. 33. It is difficult to speak of the per- 
sons concerned in this infamous transaction without some degree of aspe- 
Ty! noStanding they are, by a strange perversion of language, styled, 
all «.en of honour. ^^^^ ,,,^ -p^^,,,j. 

Lady Carnegy. 
Anne, daughter of WilUam, Duke of HamUton, and wife of Robert 
Carnegy, Earl of Southesk. 

Note 104, Page 168. 
Talbot. 
Afterwards Duke of Tyrconnel. See note on p. 98. 

Note 105, Page 169. 
The traitor Southesk meditated a revenge. 
Bishop Burnet, taking notice of the Duke of YoA's amours, says, "A 
story was set about, and generally believed, that the Ear of Southesk, that 
had Larried a daughter of the Duke of Hamilton, suspecting some familiari- 
ties "etween the dike and his wife, had takena ^">^^«^t^°f; P^^t^,^ 
disease to himself, which he communicated to 1"%^^^' ^"^^fj' ^J X 
means, sent round till it came to the duchess, ^ord S°uOiesk w^^^^^ 
some ^ears, not ill pleased to have this beheved. "looked hke a pecu- 
liar strain of revenge, with which he seemed much delighted. But 1 
know he has, to some' of his friends, denied *%^1^° V / m^ It ^ 
solemnly."-iJ««e<'s Own Times, vol. i. p. 395, Oxford, 1823. It is 
worthy of notice, that the passage in the text was omitted in most 
editions of Grammont, and retained in that of Strawberry-hiU, in 1772. 



-^^O NOTES AND 

Note lOG, Page 170. 
Lady Rolarts, 
Lord Orford says, tliis lady was Sarah, daughter of John Bod- 
vilie, of Bodville Castle, in Caernarvonshire, wife of Robert Robarts, 
who died in the lifetime of his father, and was eldest son of John, 
Earl of Radnor. This, however, may be doubted. There was no 
Earl of Radnor until the year 1679, which was after the date of 
most, if not all the transactions related in this work ; consequently, no 
other person, who could be called Lord Robarts, than John, the second 
lord, who was created Earl of Radnor, with whose character several of the 
qualities here enumerated, particularly his age, moroseness, &:c., will be 
found to agree. Supposing this to be admitted, the lady will be Isabella, 
daughter of Sir John Smith, knight, second wife of the above John, Lord 
Robarts, whose character is thus portrayed by Lord Clarendon: — 
** Though of a good understanding, he was of so morose a nature, that it 
was no easy matter to treat with him. He had some pedantic parts of 
learning, which made his other parts of judgment the worse. He was 
naturally proud and imperious, which humour was increased by an ih 
education ; for, excepting some years spent in the inns of court, he might 
very justly be said to have been born and bred in Cornwall. When lord 
deputy in Ireland, he received the information of the chief persons there 
so negligently, and gave his answers so scornfully, that they besought the 
king that they might not be obliged to attend him any more : but he was 
noc a man chat was to be disgraced and thrown off without much incon- 
venience and hazard. He had parts, which, in council and parliament, 
were very troublesome ; for, of all men alive, who had so few friends, he 
had the most followers. They who conversed most with him knew him 
to have many humours which were very intolerable ; they who were but 
little acquainted with him took him to be a man of much knowledge, and 
called his morosity gravity." — Continuation of Clarendon^ p. 102. 

Note 107, Page 171. 

The Earl of Bristol, 

George Digoy. The account here given of the practices of this noble- 
man receives confirmation from Lord Clarendon, who observes of him, 
" that he had left no way unattempted to render himself gracious to the 
king, by saying and doing all that might be acceptable unto him, and con- 
triving such meetings and jollities as he was pleased with.*' — Continuation 
of his Life, p. 208. Lord Orford says of him, that "his life was one 
contradiction. He wrote against popery, and embraced it ; he was a 
zealous opposerof the court, and a sacrifice to it; was conscientiously con- 
verted in the midst of his prosecution of Lord Strafford, and was most 
unconscientiously a prosecutor of Lord Clarendon. With great parts, he 
always hurt himself and his friends ; with romantic bravery, he was always 
an unsuccessful commander. He spoke for the Test Act, though a Ro- 
man CatlioUc, and addicted himself to astrology on the birth-day of true 
philo£opli;v." — Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors, vol. ii. p. 25. 



ILLUSTRATIONS. G69 

The histories of England abound with the adventures of this inconsist- 
ent nobleman, who died, neither loved nor regretted by any party, in the 
year 1676. 

Note 108, Page 172. 

Sir John Denham. 

That Sir John Denham *^ had passed his youth in the midst of those 
pleasures which people at that age indulge in without restraint, '^ all his 
biographers seem to admit ; but, if our author is to be relied on, Wood's 
account of the date of his birth, 1615, must be erroneous. He was not 
loaded with years when he died, if that statement is true ; and so far from 
being seventy-nine when he married Miss Brook, he had not attained the 
age of more than fifty-three when he died. In this particular, I am in- 
clined to doubt the accuracy of Wood, who omits to mention that Sir John 
had a former wife, by whom he had a daughter. In the year 1667, he 
appears to have been a lunatic, either real or feigned. Lord Lisle, in a 
letter to Sir William Temple, dated September 26th, says, — " Poor Sir 
John Denham is fallen to the ladies also. He is at many of the meetings 
at dinners, talks more than ever he did, and is extremely pleased with 
those that seem willing to hear him, and, from that obligation, exceed- 
ingly praises the Duchess of Monmouth and my Lady Cavendish. If he 
had not the name of being mad, I believe, in most companies, he would 
be thought wittier than ever he was. He seems to have few extravagan- 
cies besides that of telling stories of himself, which he is always inclined 
to. Some of his acquaintance say, that extreme vanity was the cause of 
his madness, as well as it is an effect.'' — Templets WorTcs, vol. i. p. 434. 
In Butler's Posthumous Works, vol. ii. p. 155, is an abuse of Sir John 
Denham, under the title of ** A Panegyric upon his recovery from his 
madness." Sir John died 19th March, 1668, and was buried in West- 
minster Abbey. 

[Aubrey relates the following anecdotes of him : — ** I have heard Mr. 
Joseph Howe say that he was the dreamingest young fellow : he never ex- 
pected such things from him as he hath left the world. When he was at 
Trinity College, Oxford, he would game extrem^ely ; when he had played 
away all his money, he would play away his father's wrought caps with 
gold. (His father was Sir John Denham, one of the Barons of the Ex- 
chequer ; he had been one of Lords Justices in Ireland.) From Trinity 
College he went to Lincoln's Inn, where (as Judge Wadham Wyndham, 
vrho was his countryman, told me) he was as good a student as any in the 
house. Was not supposed to be a wit. At last, viz. 1640, his play of 
* The Sophe ' came out, which did take extremely. Mr. Edmund Waller 
said then of him, that he broke out like the Irish Rebellion — ^threescore 
thousand strong, when nobody suspected it. He was much rooked by 
gamesters, and fell acquainted with that unsanctined crew to his ruin. 
His father had some suspicion of it, and chid him severely ; whereupon his 
son John (only child) wrote a little Essay, printed in 8vo., * Against 
Gaming,' to shew the vanities and inconveniences of it, which he pre- 
sented to his father, to let him knovv- his detestation of it ; but shortly after 

2 B 



370 NOTES AND 

his father's death (who left 2,000 or 1,500 lib. in ready money, two houses 
well furnished, and much plate), the money was played away first, and 
next the plate was sold. 1 remember, about 1646, he lost 200 lib. one 
night at New Cut. Miss Brooks was his second wife, a very beautiful 
young lady, Sir John being ancient and limping. The Duke of York fell 
deeply in love with her, and this occasioned Sir John's distemper of mad- 
ness, which first appeared when he went from London to see the famous 
free-stone quarries at Portland, in Dorset, When he came within a mile 
of it, he turned back to London again, and would not see it ; he went to 
Hounslow, and demanded rents of lands he had sold many years before ; 
went to the king and told him he was the Holy Ghost ; but it pleased 
God that he was cured of this distemper, and wrote excellent verses, par- 
ticularly on the death of Mr. Abraham Cowley, afterwards. One time, 
when he was a student of Lincoln's Inn, having been merry at the tavern 
with his comrades, late at night, a frolic came into his head, to get a plas- 
terer's brush and a pot of ink, and blot out all the signs between Temple 
Bar and Charing Cross, which made a strange confusion the next day, and 
it was in Term time. But it happened that they were discovered, and it 
cost him and them some moneys. This I had from R. Estcourt, Esq., 
that carried the ink-pot. In the time of the civil wars, George Withers, 
the poet, begged Sir John Denham's estate of the Parliament, in whose 
cause he was a captain of horse. It happened that G. W. was taken pri- 
soner, and was in danger of his life, having written severely against the 
king, &c. Sir John Denham went to the king, and desired his Majesty 
not to hang him, for that whilst G. W. lived, he should not be the worst 
poet in England."] 

Note 109, Page 189. 
Rochester. 
John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester ; *' a man," as Lord Orford observes, 
*' whom the muses were fond to inspire, and ashamed to avow ; and who 
practised, without the least reserve, that secret which can make verses 
more read for their defects than for their merits " {Noble Authors, vol. ii. 
p. 43) ; was born, according to Burnet and Wood, in the month of April, 
1648 ; but Gladbury,in his almanac for 1695, fixes the date on April 1, 1647, 
from the information of Lord Rochester himself. His father was Henry, 
Sari of Rochester, better known by the title of Lord Wilmot. He was 
educated atWadham College, Oxford, and, in 1665, went to sea with the Earl 
of Sandwich, and displayed a degree of valour which he never shewed at 
any period afterwards. Bishop Burnet says, he *' was naturally modest, 
till the court corrupted him. His wit had in it pecuHar brightness, to 
which none could ever arrive. He gave himself up to all sorts of ex- 
travagance, and to the wildest frolics that wanton wit could devise. He 
would have gone about the streets as a beggar, and made love as a porter. 
He set up a stage as an Italian mountebank. [For a copy of his speech 
on this occasion, sec note 142.] He was for some years always drunk ; 
and was ever doing some mischief. The king loved his company, for the 
diversion it afforded, better than his person ; and there was no love lost 
between them. He took his revenges in many libels. He found out a 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 371 

footman that knew all the court ; and he furnished him with a red coat 
and a musket, as a sentinel, and kept him all the winter long, every 
night, at the doors of such ladies as he believed might be in intrigues. In 
the court, a sentinel is little minded, and is believed to be posted by a 
captain of the guards to hinder a combat ; so this man saw who walked 
about and visited at forbidden hours. By this means Lord Rochester 
made many discoveries ; and when he was well furnished with materials, 
he used to retire into the country for a month or two to write libels. 
Once, being drunk, he intended to give the king a libel he had writ on 
some ladies, but, by mistake, he gave him one written on himself. He fell 
into an ill habit of body, and, in set fits of sickness, he had deep remorses, 
for he was guilty both of much impiety and of great immoralities. But 
as he recovered, he threw these off, and turned again to his former ill 
courses. In the last year of his life, I was much with him. and have 
writ a book of what passed between him and me : I do verily believe, he 
was then so changed, that, if he had recovered, he would have made good 
all his resolutions." — History of his oivn Times, vol. i. p. 372. On 
this book, mentioned by the bishop, Dr. Johnson pronounces the follow- 
ing eulogium : — that it is one *' which the critic ought to read for its 
elegance, the philosopher for its arguments, and the saint for its piety. 
It were an injury to the reader to offer him an abridgment." — Life of Lord 
Rochester. [Pepys gives the following account of Lord Rochester's run- 
away match. May 28, 1665. *' To my Lady Sandwiche's, where, to my 
shame, I had not been a great while. Here, upon my telling her a story 
of my Lord of Rochester's running away on Friday night last with Mrs. 
Mallett, the great beauty and fortune of the north, who had supped at 
White Hall with Mrs. Stewart, and was going home to her lodgings with 
her grandfather, my Lord Hally, by coach ; and was at Charing Cross 
seized on by both horse and footmen, and forcibly taken from him, and 
put into a coach with six horses, and two Vv^omen provided to receive 
her, and carried away. Upon immediate pursuit, my Lord of Rochester 
(for whom the king had spoke to the lady often, but v/ith no success) was 
taken at Uxbridge ; but the lady is not yet heard of, and the king mighty 
angry, and the lord sent to the Tower. Hereupon my lady did confess 
to me, as a great secret, her being concerned in this story. For if this 
match breaks between my Lord Rochester and her, then, by the consent 
of all her friends, my Lord Hinchingbroke stands fair, and is invited for 
her. She is worth, and will be at her mother's death (who keeps but 
little from her), 2,500/. per annum."] Lord Rochester died July 26, 
1680. 

Note 110, Page 189. 
Middlesex. 
At this time the Earl of Middlesex was Lionel, who died in 1674. 
The person intended by our author was Charles, then Lord Buckhurst, 
afterwards Earl of Middlesex, and, lastly, Duke of Dorset. He was 
born January 24, 1637. Bishop Burnet says, he '' was a generous, good- 
natured man. He was so oppressed with phlegm, that, till he was a little 
heated with wine, he scarce ever spoke ; but he was, upon that exaltation, 

2 B 2 



372 NOTES AND 

a very lively man. Never was so much ill-nature in a pen as in his, 
joined with so much good-nature as was in himself, even to excess ; for 
he was against all punishing, even of malefactors. He was bountiful, 
even to run himself into difficulties, and charitable to a fault ; for he 
commonly gave all he had about him when he met an object that moved 
him. But he was so lazy, that, though the king seemed to court him to 
be a favourite, he would not give himself the trouble that belonged to that 
post. He hated the court, and despised the king, when he saw he was 
neither generous nor tender-hearted.'* — History of Ms own Times j voL 
!. p. 370. Lord Orford says of him, that *' he was the finest gentleman 
of the voluptuous court of Charles the Second, and in the gloomy one of 
King William. He had as much wit as his first master, or his contempo- 
raries, Buckingham and Rochester, without the royal want of feeling, the 
duke's want of principles, or the earl's want of thought. The latter said, 
with astonishment, * that he did not know how it was, but Lord Dorset 
might do any thing, and yet was never to blame.' It was not that he was 
free from the failings of humanity, but he had the tenderness of it too, 
which made everybody excuse whom everybody loved ; for even the as- 
perity of liis verses seems to have been forgiven to 

The best good man, with the worst-natured muse.* 

Nolle Authors, vol. ii. p. 96. Lord Dorset died January 19, 1705-6. 

[Pepys thus notices his connection with Nell Gv»'ynn. July 13th, 166*^, 
'* iNIr. Pierce tells us what troubles me, that my Lord Buckhurst hath got 
Nell away from the king's house, and gives her 100/. a year, so as she 
hath sent her parts to the house, and will act no more." And again, July 
14th. ** To Epsom, by eight o'clock, to the well ; were much company. 
And to the towne to the King's Head ; and hear that my Lord Buckhurst 
and Nelly are lodged at the next house, and Sir Charles Sedley with them : 
and keep a merry house. Poor girl ! I pity her ; but more the loss of 
her at the king's house." Also, August 26th. ** Nell is already left by 
my Lord Buckhurst, and he makes sport of her, and swears she hath had 
all she could get of him ; and Hart, her great admirer, now hates her ; 
and she is very poor, and hath lost my Lady Castlemaine, who was her 
great friend, also ; but she is come to the play-house, but is neglected by 
them all."] 

Note 111, Page 189. 
Sydletj, 
Sir Charles Sedley was born about the year 1639, and was educated at 
Wadham College, Oxford. He ran into all the excesses of the times in 
which he lived. Burnet says, '* Sedley had a more sudden and copious 
wit, which furnished a perpetual run of discourse ; but he was not so cor- 
rect as Lord Dorset, nor so sparkling as Lord Rochester." — History of 
his own Times, vol. i. p. 372. He afterwards took a more serious turn, 
and was active against the reigning family at the Revolution ; to v/hich he 
was probably urged by the dishonour brought upon his daughter, created 
Countess of Dorchester by King James IL [The following well-known 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 373 

anecdote refers to this circumstance. Sedley was one day asked why he 
appeared so inflamed against the king, to whom he was under so many 
obligations ? "I hate ingratitude,'' he said, " and therefore, as the king 
has made my daughter a countess, I will endeavour to make his daughter 
a queen.'' Referring to the Princess Mary, wife of the Prince of Orange, 
who, by the success of this great outbreak, was called to the throne under 
the name of William III.] Lord Rochester's lines on his powers of 
seduction are well known. He died 20th August, 1701. 

[Among other numerous frolics related of Sir Charles Sedley, that 
which took place in June, 1663, when he was in company with Lord 
Buckhurst, Sir Thomas Ogle, &c. at the Cock Tavern, in Bow Street, 
Covent Garden, as recorded by Anthony Wood (see his Life^ p. 53, and 
his Athence, vol. iv. p. 732), is the most notorious. ** His indecent and 
blasphemous proceedings there raised a riot, wherein the people became 
very clamorous, and v/ould have forced the door next to the street open ; 
but being hindered, he and his companions were pelted into the room, and 
the windows belonging thereunto were broken. This frolic being soon 
spread abroad, especially by the fanatical party, who aggravated it to the 
utmost, by making it the most scandalous thing in nature, and nothing 
more reproachful to religion than that ; the said company were summoned 
to the court of justice in Westminster Hall, where, being indicted of a 
riot before Sir Robert Hyde, lord chief justice of the Common Pleas, were 
all fined, and Sir Charles to the amount of 500/. Sir Robert Hyde asked 
him whether ever he read the book called The Complete Gentleman, &c., 
to which Sir Charles made answer, that set aside his lordship, he had read 
more books than himself, &c. The day for payment being appointed. Sir 
Charles desired Mr. Henry Killegrew, and another gentleman, to apply 
themselves to his majesty to get it off ; but instead of that, they beg'd 
the said sum of his majesty, and would not abate Sir Ciiarles two-pence 
of the money." 

Pepys thus alludes to a somewhat similar frolic in 1668 : *' Pierce do 
tell me, among other news, the late frolic and debauchery of Sir Charles 
Sedley and Buckhurst running up and down all the night, almost naked, 
through the streets ; and at last fighting, and being beat by the watch and 
clapped up all night : and how the king takes their parts ; and my Lord 
Chief Justice Keeling hath laid the constable by the heels to answer it next 
sessions : which is a horrid shame."] 

Note 112, Page 189. 
Etheridge. 
Sir George Etheridge, author of three comedies, was born about the 
year 1636. He was, in James the Second's reign, employed abroad ; first 
as envoy to Hamburgh, and afterwards as minister at Ratisbon, where he 
died, about the time of the Revolution. The authors of the Blographia 
Britannica say that his death happened in consequence of Bn unlucky ac- 
cident ; for that, after having treated some company with a liberal enter- 
tainment at his house there (Ratisbon), where he had taken his glass too 
♦reely, and being, through his great com picas aiTLce^ too forward, in waiting 



374 KOTES AI^D 

on his guests at their departure, flushed as he was, he tumbled down 
stairs, and broke his neck, and so fell a martyr to jolUty and civility. 

Note 113, Page 191. 

A celehrated portrait painter y called Lely. 

Sir Peter Lely was born at Soest, in Westphalia, 1617, and came to 

England in 1G41. Lord Orford observes, " If Vandyck's portraits are 

ften tame and spiritless, at least they are natural : his laboured draperies 

riow with ease, and not a fold but is placed with propriety. Lely supplied 

the want of taste with clinquant : his nymphs trail fringes and embroidery 

through meadows and purling streams. Add, that Vandyck's habits are 

those of the times ; Lely's a sort of fantastic night-gowns, fastened with 

a single pin. The latter w^as, in truth, the ladies' painter ; and whether 

the age was improved in beauty or in flattery, Lely's women are certainly 

much handsomer than those of Vandyck. 'They please as much more as 

they evidently meaned to please. He caught the reigning character, and 



• on the animated canvas stole 



The sleepy eye, that spoke the melting soul. 

I do not know whether, even in softness of the flesh, he did not excel his 
predecessor. The beauties at Windsor are the court of Paphos, and ought 
to be engraved for the memoirs of its charming biographer, Count Hamil- 
ton."— ^?ieci/o^e* of Painting, vol. iii. p. 27. Sir Peter Lely died 1680, 
and was buried in St. Paul's, Covent Garden. 

Note 114, Page 192. 
Merciless fate robbed her of life. 

The lampoons of the day, some of which are to be found in Andrew 
Marvell's works, more than insinuated that she was deprived of life by a 
mixture infused into some chocolate. The slander of the times imputed 
her death to the jealousy of the Duchess of York. 

[Pepys says in his Diary, Jan. 7th, 166G-7 :—*' Lord Brouncker tells 
me, that my Lady Denham is at last dead. Some suspect her poisoned, 
but it will be best known when her body is opened to-day, she dying yes- 
terday morning. The Duke of York is troubled for her ; but hath de- 
clared he will never have another public mistress again ; which I shall be 
glad of, and would the king would do the like." It appears that her body 
was never opened, and Aubrey says, *' she was poisoned by the hands of 
the CO. of Roc. with chocolate."] 

Note 115, Page 199. 

— he saw avery fine house, situated on the hanks of ariver, in the most 
delightful and j)leasant country imaginable. 
This was Bretby, in the county of Derby. A late traveller has the fol- 
lowing reflections on this place : — '* Moving back again a few miles to the 
west, we trace, with sad reflection, the melancholy ruins and destruction 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 37o 

of what was once the boasted beauty of the lovely country, viz. Bretby, 
the ancient seat of the Earls of Chesterfield. Nothing scarce is left of that 
former grandeur, those shades, those sylvan scenes that everywhere graced 
the most charming of all parks : the baneful hand of luxury hath, with 
rude violence, laid them waste. About ten years ago, the venerable and 
lofty pile was standing, and exhibited delightful magnificence to its fre- 
quent visitors : its painted roofs and walls, besides a large collection of 
pictures, afi'orded much entertainment to the fond admirer of antique 
beauties ; and the whole stood as a lasting monument of fame and credit 
to its lordly owner. Would they were standing now ! but that thought 
is vain : — not only each surrounding monument, but the very stones them- 
selves, have been converted to the purpose of filthy lucre." — Tour^ in 
1787, from London to the Western Highlands of Scotland, 12mo., 
p. 29. 

Note 116, Page 200. 
Mademoiselle de V Orme. 
Marion de I'Orme, born at Chalons, in Champagne, was esteemed the 
most beautiful woman of her times. It is believed that she was secretly 
married to the unfortunate Monsieur Cinqmars. After his death, she 
became the mistress of Cardinal Richelieu, and, at last, of Monsieur 
d'Emery, superintendent of the finances. 

Note 117, Page 204. 
Marquis de Flamarens, 

A Monsieur Plamarin, but whether the same person as here described 
cannot be exactly ascertained, is mentioned, in Sydney's Letters, to have 
been in England at a later period than is comprehended in these Memoirs. 
*' Monsieur de Flamarin hath been received at Windsor as seriously as if 
it had been believed the Queen of Spain's marriage should not hold unless 
it were here approved ; and the formalities that are uswal with men of 
business having been observed to him, he is grown to think he is so." — 
Sydney's Works, p. 94. 

The following account of the singular duel which was the occasion of 
this nobleman coming to England is extracted from the '* Memoirs of the 
Count de Rochefort," already quoted: — 

** A fortnight or three weeks after, as I mentioned before, the quarrel 
took place between Messrs. de la Frette, which did not terminate very 
happily. The eldest happened to be present at a ball given at court, 
which was attended by numerous persons of distinction ; on the company 
leaving the ball-room, this haughty man, who owed a grudge to M. de 
Chalais on account of a mistress, pushed purposely against him ; M. de 
Chalais turning about to know the cause, and discovering la Frette, loaded 
him with the most opprobrious terms. Had swords been in the way, the 
affair would have taken a more serious turn, although the scene of action 
was ill adapted to such sort of discussions ; that the ball etiquette however 
might not be disturbed, La Frette made no reply, but waiting until coming 
out, then demanded satisfaction. It was in consequence agreed on be- 



376 NOTKS AND 

tween them to fight three against three ; and a spot being fixed upon, the 
next morning was appointed for the rencontre, it being then too late. In 
the mean time, the quarrel having happened too publicly to remain a se- 
cret, the king was informed of it, and immediately despatched the Cheva- 
lier St. Agnan, to inform La Frette that he forbade his having recourse 
to the means he proposed to avenge himself, and that if he still persisted 
in them, he should lose his head. The Chevalier St. Agnan, who was his 
first cousin, upon meeting with him, acquainted him with the commands 
of the king ; to which La Frette made answer, that he considered him too 
much his friend, to suppose that he w^ould be instrumental in preventing 
the intended meeting, which was only delayed until daybreak : he added 
that he had better be himself a party in the contest, and that Chalais 
would not fail providing a match for him. The Chevalier St. Agnan, 
without considering that he was sent by the king, and that even allowing 
duels had not been so strictly prohibited as they were, he was still in- 
volving himself in a difficulty from which he could not hope to extricate 
himself, agreed to the request, and Chalais had notice given to him to 
provide him an antagonist. The Marquis de Noirmoustier, his brother- 
in-law, who was to assist him, being acquainted, as I said before, with the 
affair which had taken place betwixt La Frette and myself, I occurred to 
his mind, and he sent for me ; but luckily I had been engaged at play at 
a friend's house until it grew late ; and although at Paris it is not very 
customary to sleep from home, yet as it was reported that robbers were 
then much abroad, I was prevailed on to take a bed with him ; this cir- 
cumstance saved me ; and in this instance I was convinced, that fortune, 
who had long persecuted, was resolved not entirely to abandon me. The 
eight combatants were. La Frette, Ovarti, his brother, a lieutenant in the 
guards, the Chevalier de St. Agnan, the Marquis de Flammarin^ the 
Prince de Chalais, the Marquis de Noirmoustier, the Marquis d'Antin, 
brother of Madame de Montespan, and the Viscomte d'Angelieu. The 
duel proved fatal only to the Marquis d'Antin, who was killed on the 
spot ; but notwithstanding the rest escaped his fate, they were all severely 
wounded. The king's anger was excessive, particularly against the Che- 
vaUer de St. Agnan, who was, in fact, more blameable than all the rest. 
Their fate, however, was equal ; their immediate object was to fly the 
kingdom, disguised, the king having sent orders for their arrest to the sea- 
ports and confines of his dominions. Some of them went to Spain, others 
to Portugal, the remainder elsewhere, as best suited their views. But 
however desirable a residence in a foreign country may seem, it still sa- 
vours of banishment, and each had full leisure to repent his folly. No 
one bestowed any pity on the Chevalier de St. Agnan, thinking he had 
come off much better than he deserved ; neither did Messrs. de la Frette 
attract much compassion, having always evinced so quarrelsome a dispo- 
sition, that they could not be better compared tlian to those horses of a i 
vicious character, who will suffer no others in the same stable with them- j 
selves. Respecting the others, public opinion took a different turn: their 
misfortune was much pitied ; and it was hoped it had been possible that j 
tlie king would have relaxed of his severity towards them. In fact, they j 
were all persons of worth, and deserved a better fate. But no person 



ILIA•.STKATIO^•S. 8? 7 



durst mention it to the king ; even the Duke de St. Agn^n, who was a good 
deal about his person, was the first to tell his Majesty , that his son s mis- 
conduct was of a nature never to be pardoned ; that if he were acquainted 
with his place of retreat, he should be the first to discover it, in order o 
bring him to justice; that he should not, therefore, trouble his Majes.y 
wVth intercessions in his behalf, and believed that every one would incline 
to his way of thinking. This speech might be very appropriate m the 
mouth of a courtier, who was endeavouring to gam the favour of his 
prince by every possible means ; but very ill becoming a parent, who, in- 
stead of blackening the transaction, should have felt it his duty to have ■:', 
presented it in as favourable a light as possible. The relations of Messis 
de la Frette acted differently ; they did not dare themselves to speak to the 
king, but made use of every possible means to move his compassion. The 
Duchess de Chaukies prevailed on her husband, who was ambassador at 
Rome, to mention it to the Pope, and however much the Hoiy Fathe. 
might approve of the king's conduct in this affair, he, nevertheless, pro- 
mised his assistance on this occasion ; accordingly, a few years after, hav- 
ing occasion to send a legate to France, on «if«>^ent b"^^'^^^^' ^"f^ °f '^ 
import unnecessary to mention here, he was charged to speak to the king 
on that subject, and to say that he took an mterest m it. The guc1i..s 
could not have employed an agent whose recommendation would ha^e 
turned out more efficacious; the Pope had it m his power to abso.v^ tue 
king from his oath, which was supposed to render him so igid , but ..e 
made answer to the legate, that in every other circumstance he ^H,uld jo, - 
fuUy oblige the Holy Father, but in this affair, he had so bound hmsef 
tliat God only could discharge him from so solemn an oath. x,ot tha. he 
doubted the Authority of the Holy See; but as he duty 5^e ow-ed to God 
required him to be a prince of his word, he firmly believed that the Pope 
himself would depart from the recommendation if he would but e.xammo 
into its consequences." 

Note 118, Page 204. 
Countess de la Suze. 
This lady was the daughter of Gaspar de Coligni, marshal of France, 
and was celebrated in her time for her wit and her elegies. She was one 
of the few women with whom Christina, Queen of Sweden, condescended 
to become intimate. Though educated a Protestant,_ she embraced the 
Roman Catholic religion, less from a motive of devotion, than to have a 
pretence of parting from her husband, who was a Protestant, and for 
whom she had an invincible abhorrence; which occasioned the queen to 
Tay!^' The Countess of Suze became a Catholic, that she might neither 
meet her husband in this world nor the next."-See Lacomle s Life of 
Queen Christina. The countess died m 16/3. 

Note 119, Page 204. 
Tambonneait. 
I find this person mentioned in Memoirs of the Court of France, Svc, 
1702, pt.ii. p. 42. 



37S NOTES AND , 

Note 120, Page 206. 
Talbot J who was afterwards created Duke of TyrconneL 
Richard Talbot, the fifth son ** of an Irish family, but of ancient Eng- 
lish extraction, which had always inhabited within that circle that was 
called the Pale: which, being originally an English plantation, was, in so 
many hundred years, for the most part degenerated into the manners of 
the Irish, and rose and mingled with them in the late rebellion : and of 
this family there were two distinct families, who had competent estates, 
and lived in many descents in the rank of gentlemen of quality." Thus 
far Lord Clarendon; who adds, that Richard Talbot and his '* brothers 
were all the sons, or the grandsons, of one who was a judge in Ireland, 
and esteemed a learned man." — Continuation of Clarendon. Of the 
person now under consideration the same writer appears, and with great 
reason, to have entertained a very ill opinion. Dick Talbot, as he was 
called, '' was brought into Flanders first by Daniel O'Neile, as one who 
was willing to assassinate Cromwell ; and he made a journey into England 
with that resolution, not long before his death, and after it returned into 
Flanders, ready to do all that he should be required. He was a very 
handsome young man, wore good clothes, and was, without doubt, of a 
clear, ready courage, which was virtue enough to recommend a man to 
the duke's good opinion ; which, with more expedition than could be ex- 
pected, he got, to that degree, that he was made of his bedchamber ; and 
from that qualification embarked himself, after the king's return, in the 
pretences of the Irish, with such an unusual confidence, and, upon private 
contracts, with such scandalous circumstances, that the chancellor had 
sometimes, at the council-table, been obliged to give him severe repre- 
hensions, and often desired the duke to withdraw his countenance from 
him." — Continuation of Clarendon. It is to be remembered that he was 
one of the men of honour already noticed. On King James's accession 
to the throne, he was created Earl of Tyrconnel, and placed, as lieute- 
nant-general, at the head of the Irish army, where his conduct was so 
agreeable to his sovereign, that he was, in 1689, advanced to the dignity 
of Duke of Tyrconnel. He was afterwards employed by the king in Ire- 
land, where his efforts were without effect. The Duke of Berwick says, 
** his stature was above the ordinary size. He had great experience of 
the world, having been early introduced into the best company, and pos- 
sessed of an honourable employment in the household of the Duke of 
York ; who, upon his succession to the crown, raised him to the dignity 
of an earl, and well knowing his zeal and attachment, made him soon after 
viceroy of Ireland. He was a man of very good sense, very obliging, but 
immoderately vain, and full of cunning. Though he had acquired great 
possessions, it could not be said that he had employed improper means ; 
for he never appeared to have a passion for money. He had not a mili- j 
tary genius, but much courage. After the Prince of Orange's invasion, 
his firmness preserved Ireland, and he nobly refused all the offers that 
were made to induce him to submit. From the time of the battle of the 
Boyne, he sank prodigiously, being become as irresolute in his mind as 
unwieldy in his person." — MemoirSy vol. i. p. 94. [He is said to have 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 379 

died suddenly by poison, administered in a cup of ratafia.] He died at 
Limerick, 5th August, 1691. 

Note 121, Page 207. 

One of these brothers was almoner to the queen. 

I This was Peter Talbot, whose character is drawn by Lord Clarendon in 

'; terms not more favourable than those in which his brother is portrayed. 

' — See Continuation of Clarendon, p. 363. 

Note 122, Page 207. 

the other was called a lay-monJc, 

Thomas Talbot, a Franciscan friar, of wit enough, says Lord Claren- 
don, but of notorious debauchery. More particulars of this man may 
, be found in the same noble historian. — See Continuation of Clarendon^ 
I p. 963, 

Note 123, Page 207. 

which offended the DuJce of Ormond, 

A very exact account of this transaction is given Lord Clarendon, by 
which it appears that Talbot was committed to the Tower for threaten- 
ing to assassinate the Duke of Ormond. — Continuation of Clarendon, 
p. 362. 

Note 124, Page 209. 
Lord Cornwallis, 
Charles, the third Lord Cornwallis, born in 1655. He married, De- 
cember 27, 1673, Elizabeth, eldest daughter of Sir Stephen Fox, knight, 
and afterwards, in 1688, the widow of the Duke of Monmouth. Lord 
Cornwallis died April 29, 1698. 

Note 125, Page 209. 
Sir Stephen Fox. 
This gentleman is said to have been of a genteel family, settled at 
Farley, in Wiltshire, and was the architect of his own fortune. Lord 
Clarendon says, in his History of the Rebellion, that he was entertained 
by Lord Percy, then lord-chamberlain of the king's household, at Paris, 
about the year 1652, and continued in his majesty's service until the 
Restoration. On that event he was made clerk of the green cloth, and 
afterwards paymaster-general of the forces in England. On the 1st July, 
1665, he was knighted. In 1680, he was constituted one of the lords com- 
missioners of the treasury. On the accession of James II. he was con- 
tinued first clerk of the green cloth; and, in December, 1686, was again 
appointed one of the commissioners of the treasury. At the Revolution, he 
concurred in voting the throne vacant ; and, on 19th March, 1689, was 
a third time appointed to the treasury ; which place he held until he 
retired from public business, in 1701. By his first lady he had seTCn 
sons and three daughters ; and by his second, whom he married in the 



3S0 NOTES AND 

year 1703, when he was seventy-six years of age, he had two sons, who 
both afterwards became peers, — Stephen, Earl of llchester, and Henry> 
Lord Holland, and two daupjhters. He died in the year 1716. at Chis- 
wick, in his eiglity-ninth year. 

Note 12G, Page 211. 
Lord Taafe, eldest son of the Earl of Carlingford, 
Nicholas, the third Yiscount Taafe, and second Earl of Carlingford, 
He was of the privy-council to King James II., and, in 1689, went as 
envoy to the Emperor Leopold. He lost his life the next year, 1st July, 
at the battle of the Boyne, commanding at that time a regiment of foot. 
This nobleman, although he succeeded his father in his title, was not his 
eldest son. King Charles appears to have had a great regard for the 
family. In a letter from Lord Arlington to Sir Richard Fanshaw, dated 
April 21, 1664, that nobleman says, '* Colonel Luke Taafe (a brother of 
my Lord Carlingford 's) hath served his Catholic majesty many years in 
the state of Milan, with a standing regiment there; which regiment he 
desires now to deliver over to Captain Nicholas Taafe, a younger son of 
my Lord Carlingford' s. and the colonel's nephew, who is now a captain 
of the regiment : and his majesty commands me to recommend to your 
excellency the bringing this to pass, for the affection he hath to the 
family, and the merit of this young gentleman." — Arlingtori's Letters, 
vol. ii. p. 21. 

Note 127, Page 211. 
The DuJce of Richmond, 
Charles Stewart, Duke of Richmond and Lennox. He was afterwards 
sent ambassador to Denmark, and died at Elsineur, December 12, 1672. 
Burnet says, he '* was sent to give a lustre to the negotiation, which was 
chiefly managed by Mr. Hensaw." — History of his Own Times, vol. i. 
J). 425. [For particulars of his marriage with Miss Stewart, see note 
169.] 

Note 128, Page 211. 
Mademoiselle de la Garde, 
Daughter of Charles Peliot, Lord de la Garde, whose eldest daughter 
married Sir Thomas Bond, comptroller of the household to the queen- 
mother. Sir Thomas Bond had a considerable estate at Peckham. and 
liis second son married the niece of Jermyn, one of the heroes of these 
Memoirs. — See Collinses Baronetage, vol. iii. p. 4. She became the 
wife of Sir Gabriel Silvius, and died" 13th October, 1730. 

Note 129, Page 216. 

Mr. Silvius, 

Afterwards Sir Gabriel Silvius. In Chamherlayne^s Anglice Notitia, 

1669, Gabriel de Sylvus is put down as one of the carvers to the queen, 

and Mrs. de Syh-us, one of the six chambriers or dressers to the queen. 



ILLUSTRATIONS C81 

He was afterwards knighted, and, 30th February, 1680, was sent ambas- 
sador to the Dukes of Brunswick and Lunenburgh. Lord Orford says, 
he was a native of Orange, and was attached to the princess-royal, after- 
wards to the Duke of York. He also says, he was sent ambassador to 
Denmark. 

Note 130, Page 217. 
Progers. 
Edward Progers, Esq., was a younger son of Philip Progers, Esq., of 
the family of Garreddin, in Monmouthshire. His father was a colonel 
in the army, and equerry to James I. Edward was early introduced to 
court, and, after having been page to Charles I., was made groom of the 
bedchambea' to his son, while Prince of Wales. He attached himself to 
the king's interest during the war with the parliament, with laudable 
fidelity. The following letter, from which antiquaries may derive the 
minute information that Charles II. did wear mourning for a whole year 
for his father, serves to shew the familiar style which Charles used to 
Progers, as w^ell as his straitened circumstances while in the island of 
Jersey. 

*' Progers, I wold have you (besides the embroidred sute) bring me a 
plaine riding suite, with an innocent coate, the suites I haue for horse - 
backe being so spotted and spoiled that they are not to be scene out of 
this island. The lining of the coate, and the petit toies are referred to 
your greate discretion, provided there want nothing when it comes to be 
put on. I doe not remember there was a belt, or a hat-band, in your 
directions for the embroiderd suite, and those are so necessarie as you 
must not forget them. 

'' Jearsey, lith Jan. old sHlOy 1649. ** Charles R.'* 

'' For Mr. Progers.'' 

By a letter from Cowley to Henry Bennet, dated 18th November, 
1650, Mr. Progers appears to have been then active in his master's ser- 
vice. — Broivn's Miscellanea Aulica, 1702, p. 153. In the lampoons of 
the times, particularly in those of Andrew Marvell, Mr. Progers is 
described as one devoted to assist his master's pleasures ; for which 
reason, perhaps, he was banished from the king's presence in 1650, by 
an act of the estates of Scotland, ** as an evil instrument and bad coun- 
sellor of the king." He is said to have obtained several grants to take 
effect upon the restoration ; but it does not appear that they took effect. 
In 1660, he was named, says Lord Orford, one of the knights of the 
royal oak, an order the king then intended to institute. By the same 
authority we are informed that he had permission from the king to build 
a house in Bushy-park, near Hampton-court, on condition that, after 
his death, it should revert to the crown. This was the house inhabited 
by the late Earl of Hallifax. He represented the county of Brecon in 
parliament for seventeen years, but retired in 1679. On the death of 
his master, he retired from public life. Mr. Progers died, saya Le 
Neve, " December 31st, or January 1st, 1713, aged ninety-six, of the 
anguish of cutting teeth, he having cut four new teeth and had several 



382 NOTES AND 

ready to cut, which so inflamed his gums, that he died thereof.'' He 
was in low circumstances before his death, and appHed to King James 
for relief, with what effect is not known. Mr. Progers had a family by 
his wife Elizabeth Wells ; and the scandal-bearers of the time remarked, 
that his eldest daughter Philippa, afterwards Mrs. Croxel, bore a strong 
resemblance to Charles II. — Monumenta Anglicanaj 1717, p. 273. 

Note 131, Page 219. 
Dong on. 
The only notice of this person I have anywhere seen, is in the follow- 
ing extract of a letter from Sir Richard Fanshaw to Lord Arlington, 
dated 4th June, 1664. — ** I ought not, in justice to an honourable person, 
to conclude before I acquaint your honour, that I have this day seen a 
letter, whereby it is certified, from my Lord Dongon (now at Heres), 
that, if there were any ship in Cadiz bound for Tangier, he would go over 
in her, to do his majesty what service he could in that garrison ; which, 
he saith, he fears wants good officers very much." — Fanshaiv's Letters, 
vol. i. p. 104. 

Note 132, Page 219. 
Durfort, afterwards Earl of Feversham. 
Lewis de Duras, Earl of Feversham, a native of France, being son of 
the Duke de Duras, and brother to the last duke of that name, as also to 
the Duke de Lorge. His mother was sister to the great Turenne, of the 
princely house of Bouillon. After the Restoration he came to England, 
was naturalized, and behaved with great gallantry in the sea-fight with 
the Dutch, in 1665. When he first came to England, he bore the name 
of Durfort, and the title of Marquis of Blancfort. In the twenty-fourth 
Charles II. he was created Baron Duras of Holdenby, in the county of 
Northampton ; and having married Mary, the eldest daughter and co-heir 
of Sir George Sondes, of Lees Court, in the county of Kent, who had 
been created Earl of Feversham, the same title was limited to him, and 
he succeeded to it on the death of his father-in-law. Besides these 
honours, King Charles preferred him to the command of the third troop 
of horse guards, afterwards promoted him to the second, and then to the 
first. In 1679, he was made master of the horse to Queen Katherine, 
and afterwards lord-chamberlain to her majesty. Upon King James's 
accession, he was admitted into the privy council, and was commander- 
in-chief of the forces sent against the Duke of Monmouth, After the 
Revolution, he continued lord-chamberlain to the queen-dowager, and 
master of the royal college of St. Katherine's, near the Tower. He 
died April 8ch, 1709, aged sixty-eight, and was buried in the Savoy, in 
the Strand, London; but removed, March 21st, 1740, to Westminster- 
abbey. 

Note 133, Page 220. 
Miss Bagot. 
EHzabeth, daughter of Hervey Bagot, second son of Sir Hervey Bagot. 
She married first Charles Berkley, Earl of Falmouth, and, after his death 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 883 

Charles Sackville, who became the first Duke of Dorset. From the pen 
of a satirist much dependence is not to be placed for the truth of facts. 
This lady's character is treated by Dryden and Mulgrave with very little 
respect, in the following lines, extracted from '' The Essay on Satire :" 

*' Thus Dorset, purring like a thoughtful cat, 
Married ; but wiser puss ne'er thought of that : 
And first he worried her with railing rhyme, 
Like Pembroke's mastiffs at his kindest time ; 
Then for one night sold all his slavish life, 
A teeming widow, but a barren wife ; 
Swell'd by contact of such a fulsome toad, 
He lugg'd about the matrimonial load ; 
Till fortune, blindly kind as well as he. 
Has ill restored him to his liberty ; 
Which he would use in his old sneaking way, 
Drinking all night, and dosing all the day ; 
Dull as Ned Howard, whom his brisker times 
Had famed for dulness in malicious rhymes." 

Note 134, Page 221. 
Miss Jennings. 
fi This lady was one of the daughters and co-heirs of Richard Jennings, 
l| of Sundridge, in the county of Hertford, Esquire, and elder sister to the 
;i celebrated Duchess of Marlborough. Her name was Frances. She mar- 
ried George Hamilton, mentioned in these Memoirs ; and after his death 
took to her second husband Richard Talbot, already mentioned, created 
i Duke of Tyrconnel by Jam.es TI., whose fortunes he followed. Lord 
Melfort, secretary to that prince, appears to have conceived no very fa- 
I vourable opinion of this lady ; for in a letter to his master, dated October, 
I 1689, he says, '' There is one other thing, if it could be effectuated, were 
, of infinite use ; which is the getting the Duchess of Tyrconnel, for her 
j health, to come into France. I did not know she hsd been so well known 
I here as she is ; but the terms they give her, and which, for your service, 
! I may repeat unto you, is, that she has Vame la plus noire qui se puisse 
concevoir. I think it would help to keep that peace so necessary for you, 
and prevent that caballing humour which has very ill effects." — Macpher- 
son's State Paper's, vol. i. In 1699 she is mentioned in a letter from the 
Earl of Manchester to Lord Jersey, as one of the needy Jacobites of King 
James's court, to whom 3,000 crowns, part of that monarch's pension, 
had been distributed. — Colea^s State Papers j p. 53. In 1705 she was in 
England, and had an interview with her brother-in-law, the Duke of 
Marlborough, with whose family she seems not to have lived in any terms 
of cordiality. — Macpherson, vol. i. 

[Respecting her sojourn in London, Horace Walpole relates the follow- 
ing singular anecdote. ** At that time, part of the Royal Exchange was 
let out in small stalls or shops, perhaps something like a modern bazaar, 
and was a favourite and fashionable resort of women of the highest rank. 



o34 NOTES AND 

It is said that the Duchess of Tyrconnel, being reduced to absolute want 
on her arrival in England, and unable for some time to procure secret 
access to her family, hired one of the stalls under the Royal Exchange, 
and maintained herself by the sale of small articles of haberdashery. She 
wore a white dress wrapping her whole person, and a white mask, which 
she never removed, and excited much interest and curiosity/' Mrs. 
Jameson adds, '' She afterwards obtained the restoration of a small part 
of her husband's property, with permission to reside in Dublin. To that 
city, perhaps, endeared to her as the scene of past happiness, and power, 
and splendour, she returned in 1706, a widow, poor, proscribed, and 
broken-hearted. While her high-spirited sister, the Duchess of Marl- 
borough, was ruling the councils of England, or playing a desperate and 
contemptible game for power, the Duchess of Tyrconnel withdrew from 
the world : she established on the site of her husband's house, in King 
Street, a nunnery of the order of Poor Clares, and she passed in retreat, 
and the practice of the most austere devotion, the rest of her varied life. 
Her death was miserable : one cold wintry night, during an in,tense frost, 
she fell out of her bed ; and being too feeble to rise or call for assistance, 
she was discovered next morning lying on the floor in a state of insensi- 
bility. It was found impossible to restore warmth or motion to her fro- 
zen limbs ; and after lingering a few hours in a half-lethargic state, she 
gradually sank into death. She expired on the 29th of February, 1730; 
in her eighty-second year : and on the 9th of March following, she was 
interred in the cathedral church of St. Patrick."] 

Note 135, Page 222. 
Miss Temple, 
Anne, daughter of Thomas Temple, of Frankton, in the county of 
Warwick, by Rebecca, daughter of Sir Nicholas Carew, of Beddington, 
in Surrey, Knight. She afterwards became the second wife of Sir Charles 
Lyttelton, by whom she had five sons and eight daughters. She was 
grandmother of the celebrated Lord Lyttelton ; and died 27th August, 
1718. Her husband, Sir Charles Lyttelton, lived to the advanced age of 
eighty -six years ; and died at Hagley, May 2nd, 1716. 

Note 136, Page 225. 
St. Albans. 
This town is in the neighbourhood of Sundridge, where Miss Jennings' 
family resided. 

Note 137, Page 230. 

The Earl of Oxford fell in love with a handsome y graceful actreas^ 
belonging to the dvJce's theatre. 
This vras Aubery de Vere, the last Earl of Oxford of that name, and 
the twentieth and last earl of that family. He vvas chief justice in eyre ; 
and in the reign of Charles IL lord of the bedchamber, privy counsel- 
lor, colonel of the royal regiment of horse guards, and lord-lieutenant of 
tiic county of Essex ; and lieutenant-general of the forces in the reign of 



\ 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 385 

William III., and also knight of the garter. He died March 12th, 1702, 
aged eighty years and upwards, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. 
The author of a History of the English Stage, published by Curl, 1741, 
8vo., says, that Mrs. Marshall, a celebrated actress, more known by the 
name of Roxana, from acting that part, was the person deceived by the 
Earl of Oxford in this manner. [Evelyn says, Jan. 9th : — ** I saw acted 
* The Third Part of the Siege of Rhodes.' In this acted the fair and 
famous comedian, called Roxalana, from the part she performed ; and I 
think it was the last, she being taken to be the Earl of Oxford's Misse (as 
at this time they began to call lewd women). It was in recitative music."] 
The particulars of the story, as there related, do not materially vary from 
the present account of the transaction. A more detailed narrative of this 
seduction is given in Madam Dunois's Memoirs of the Court of England, 
pt. 2, p. 71. Mrs. Marshall, who was the original Roxana in Lee's Rival 
Queens, belonged not to the duke's, but the king's theatre. Lord Or- 
ford, I know not on what authority, has given the name of Mrs. Barker 
to this lady ; a name totally unknown, I believe, in the annals of the 



Note 138, Page 246. 

TJie public was obliged to Mm for the prettiest^ hutj at the same tune, 
the worst actress in the Mngdom. 
Though no name is given to this lady, there are circumstances enough 
mentioned to fix on the celebrated Mrs. Barry, as the person intended by 
the author. Mrs. Barry was introduced to the stage by Lord Rochester, 
with whom she had an intrigue, the fruit of which was a daughter, who 
lived to the age of thirteen years, and is often mentioned in his collection 
of love-letters, printed in his works, which were written to Mrs. Barry. 
On her first theatrical attempts, so little hopes were entertained of her, 
that she was, as Cibber declares, discharged the company at the end of 
the first year, among others that were thought to be a useless expense to 
it. She was well born ; being daughter of Robert Barry, Esq., barrister- 
at-law ; a gentleman of an ancient family and good estate, who hurt his 
fortune by his attachment to Charles I. ; for whom he raised a regiment 
at his own expense. Tony Aston, in his ** Supplement to Cibber' s Apo- 
logy," says, she was woman to Lady Shelton, of Norfolk, who might have 
belonged to the court. Curl, however, says, she was early taken under 
the patronage of Lady Davenant. Both these accounts may be true. The 
time of her appearance on the stage was probably not much earlier than 
1671 ; in which year she performed in Tom Essence, and was, it may be 
conjectured, about the age of nineteen. Curl mentions the great pains 
taken by Lord Rochester in instructing her ; which were repaid by the 
rapid progress she daily made in her profession. She at last eclipsed all 
her competitors, and in the part of Monimia established her reputation. 
From her performance in this character, in that of Belvidera, and of Isa- 
bella, in the Fatal Marriage, Downes says she acquired the name of the 
famous Mrs. Barry, both at court and in the city. ** Mrs. Barry," says 
Dry den, in his Preface to Cleomenes, " always excellent, has in this tra- 
gedy excelled herself, and gained a reputation beyond any woman I have 

2 c 



386 N0TE3 AND 

ever seen on the theatre/' '' In characters of greatness,'' says Gibber, 
** Mrs. Barry had a presence of elevated dignity ; her mien and motion 
superb, and gracefully majestic ; her voice fuU^ clear, and strong ; so that 
no violence of passion could be too much for her ; and when distress or 
tenderness possessed her, she subsided into the most affecting melody and 
softness. In the art of exciting pity, she had a power beyond all the ac- 
tresses I have yet seen, or what your imagination can conceive. In scenes 
of anger, defiance, or resentment, while she was impetuous and terrible, 
she poured out the sentiment with an enchanting harmony ; and it was this 
particular excellence for which Dryden made her the above-recited com- 
pliment, upon her acting Cassandra in his Cleomenes. She was the first 
person whose merit was distinguished by the indulgence of having an 
annual benefit play, which was granted to her alone in King James's 
time, and which did not become common to others till the division of this 
company, after the death of King William and Queen Mary." — Gibber's 
Apology, 1750, p. 133. Tony Aston says, ** She was not handsome ; her 
mouth opening most on the right side, which she strove to draw t'other 
way ; and at times composing her face, as if sitting for her picture : she 
was," he adds, ** middle-sized ; had darkish hair, light eyes, and was in- 
differently plump. In tragedy, she was solemn and august; in comedy, 
alert, easy, and genteel ; pleasant in her face and action ; filling the stage 
with variety of gesture. She could neither sing nor dance ; no, not in a 
country dance." — Supplement to Gibber, p. 7. The printed letters in 
Otway 's works are generally supposed to have been addressed to her. She 
adhered to Betterton in all the revolutions of the theatre, which she quitted 
about 1708, on account of her health. The last new character, of any 
consequence, which she performed, seems to have been Phsedra, in Mr. 
Smith's tragedy. She returned, however, for one night, with Mrs. Brace- 
girdle, April 7, 1709 ; and performed Mrs. Frail, in Love for Love, for 
Mr. Betterton's benefit ; and afterwards spoke an occasional epilogue, 
written by Mr. Rowe. She died 7th November, 1713, and was buried 
at Acton. The inscription over her remains says she was fifty-five years 
of age. 

Note 139, Page 247. 
Miss Boynton, 
Daughter of Matthew Boynton, second son of Sir Matthew Boynton, 
of Barmston, in Yorkshire. The sister of this lady married the celebrated 
Earl of Roscommon. 

Note 140, Page 251. 
Pitiful strolling actress, 
Probablv Nell Gwyn. 

Note 141, Page 251. 
Immediately give her the title of duchess. 

The title of Duchess of Cleveland was conferred on her 3rd August, 
22 Charles II., 1070. 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 387 

Note 142, Page 255. 
I'he recent arrival of a famous German doctor. 

Bishop Burnet confirms this account. — " Being under an unlucky acci- 
dent, which obhged him to keep out of the way, he disguised himself so, 
that his nearest friends could not have known him, and set up in Tower- 
street for an Italian mountebank, where he practised physic for some 
weeks, not without success. In his latter years he read books of history 
more. He took pleasure to disguise himself as a porter, or as a beggar ; 
sometimes to follow some mean amours, which, for the variety of them, 
he affected. At other times, merely for diversion, he would go about in 
odd shapes ; in which he acted his part so naturally, that even those who 
were in the secret, and saw him in these shapes, could perceive nothing 
by which he might be discovered." — Burnefs Life of Rochester, ed. 
1>74, p. 14. 

[Lord Rochester's speech when he exhibited as a mountebank on Tower 
Hill, is so remarkable a document, that it seems well worthy of a place 
here. 

" To all gentlemen, ladies, and others, whether of city, town, or coun- 
try, Alexander Bendo wisheth all health and prosperity. 

*' Whereas this famed metropolis of England (and were the endeavours 
of its worthy inhabitants equal to their power, merit, and virtue, I should 
not stick to denounce it, in a short time, the metropolis of the whole 
world) ; whereas, I say, this city (as most great ones are) has ever been 
infested with a numerous company of such, whose arrogant confidence, 
backed with their ignorance, has enabled them to impose on the people, 
either by premeditated cheats, or at best, the palpable, dull, and empty 
mistakes of their self-deluded imagination in physic, chymical and Gale- 
nic ; in astrology, physiognomy, palmistry, mathematics, alchymy, and 
even in government itself, the last of which I will not propose to discourse 
of, or meddle at all in, since it in no way belongs to my trade or vocation, 
as the rest do ; which (thanks to m.y God) I find much more safe, I think 
equally honest, and therefore more profitable. 

** But as to all the former, they have been so erroneously practised by 
many unlearned wretches, whom poverty and neediness, for the most part 
(if not the restless itch of deceiving), has forced to straggle and wander in 
unknown parts, that even the professions themselves, though originally 
the products of the most learned and wise men's laborious studies and 
experience, and by them left a wealthy and glorious inheritance for ages 
to come, seem, by this bastard race of quacks and cheats, to have been 
run out of all wisdom, learning, perspicuousness, and truth, with which 
they were so plentifully stocked ; and now run into a repute of mere 
mists, imaginations, errors, and deceits, such as, in the management of 
these idle professors, indeed they were. 

** You will therefore, I hope, gentlemen, ladies, and others, deem it but 
just that I, who for some years have with all faithfulness and assiduity 
courted these arts, and received such signal favours from them, that they 
have admitted me to the happy and full enjoyment of themselves, and 
trusted me with their greatest secrets, should with an earnestness andcon- 

2 C 2 



3Sg NOTKS AND 

cern more than ordinary, take their parts against those impudent fops, 
whose saucy, impertinent addresses and pretensions have brought such a 
scandal upon their most immaculate lionours and reputations. 

" Besides, I hope you will not think I could be so impudent, that if 
I had intended any such foul play myself, I would have given you so fair 
warning, by my severe observations upon others. ' Qui alterum incusant 
probri, ipsum se intueri oportet,' says Plautus. However, gentlemen, iu 
a world like this, where virtue is so exactly counterfeited, and hypocrisy 
so generally taken notice of, that every one, armed with suspicion, stands 
upon his guard against it, it will be very hard, for a stranger, especially, 
to escape censure. All I shall say for myself on this score is this : — if I 
appear to any one like a counterfeit, even for the sake of that, chiefly, 
ought I to be construed a true man. Who is the counterfeit's example ? 
His original ; and that, which he employs his industry and pains to imi- 
tate and copy. Is it therefore my fault, if the cheat by his wits and 
endeavours makes himself so like me, that consequently I cannot avoid 
resembling him ? Consider, pray, the valiant and the coward, the wealthy 
merchant and the bankrupt, the politician and the fool ; they are the same 
in many things, and differ but in one alone. 

*' The valiant man holds up his head, looks confidently round about 
him, wears a sword, courts a lord's wife, and owns it; so does the 
coward : one only point of honour excepted, and that is courage, which 
(hke false metal, one only trial can discover) makes the distinction. 

" The bankrupt walks the exchange, buys bargains, draws bills, and 
accepts them with the richest, whilst paper and credit are current coin : 
that which makes the difference is real cash ; a great defect indeed, and 
yet but one, and that^ the last found out, and still, till then, the least 
perceived. 

*• Now for the politician: — he is a grave, deliberating, close, prjang 
man : pray are there not grave, deUberating, close, prying fools ? 

*' If then the difference betwixt all these (though infinite in effect) be 
so nice in all appearance, will you expect it should be otherwise betwixt, 
the false physician, astrologer, etc., and the true ? The first calls himself 
learned doctor, sends forth his bills, gives physic and counsel, tells and 
foretels ; the other is bound to do just as much : it is only your experi- 
ence must distinguish betwixt them ; to which I willingly submit myself. 
I w^ill only say something to the honour of the mountebank, in case you 
discover me to be one. 

'' Reflect a little what kind of creature it is : — he is one then, who is 
fain to supply some higher ability he pretends to with craft ; he draws 
great companies to him by undertaking strange things, which can never 
be effected. The politician (by his example no doubt) flnding how the 
people are taken with specious miraculous impossibilities, plays the same 
game ; protests, declares, promises I know not what things, which he is 
sure can never be brought about. The people believe, are deluded, and 
pleased; the expectation of a future good, which shall never befal them, 
draws their eyes off a present evil. Thus are they kept and estabhshed 
in subjection, peace, and obedience ; he in greatness, wealth, and power- 
So you see the politician is, and must be a mountebank in state affairs ; 



ILLUSTRATIONS. oSO 

and the mountehanJc no doubt, if he thrives, is an errant politician in 
physic. But that I may not prove too tedious, I will proceed faithfully 
to inform you, what are the things in which I pretend chiefly, at this 
time, to serve my country. 

** First, I will (by the leave of God) perfectly cure that lales Britan- 
nica, or grand English disease^ the scurvy ; and that with such ease to 
my patient, that he shall not be sensible of the least inconvenience, whilst 
1 steal his distemper from him. I know there are many, who treat this 
disease with mercury, antimony, spirits, and salts, being dangerous re- 
medies ; in which, I shall meddle very little, and with great caution ; 
but by more secure, gentle, and less fallible medicines, together with the 
observation of some few rules in diet, perfectly cure the patient, having 
freed him from all the symptoms, as looseness of the teeth, scorbutick 
spots, want of appetite, pains and lassitude in the limbs and joints, espe- 
cially the legs. And to say true, there are few distempers in this nation 
that are not, or at least proceed not originally from the scurvy ; which, 
w^ere it well rooted out (as I make no question to do it from all those who 
shall come into my hands), there would not be heard of so many gouts, 
aches, dropsies, and consumptions ; nay, even those thick and slimy- 
humours, which generate stones in the kidneys and bladder, are for the 
most part offsprings of the scurvy. It would prove tedious to set down 
xill its malignant race ; but those who address themselves here, shall be 
still informed by me of the nature of their distempers, and the grounds 
I proceed upon to their cure : so will all reasonable people be satis- 
fied that I treat them with care, honesty, and understanding ; for I am 
not of their opinion, who endeavour to render their vocations rather 
mysterious than useful and satisfactory. 

*' I will not here make a catalogue of diseases and distempers ; it be- 
hoves a physician, I am sure, to understand them all; but if any one 
come to me (as I think there are very few that have escaped my practice) 
I shall not be ashamed to own to my patient, where I find myself to 
seek ; and, at least, he shall be secure with me from having experiments 
tried upon him ; a privilege he can never hope to enjoy, either in the 
hands of the grand doctors of the court and Tower, or in those of the 
lesser quacks and mountebanks. 

*' It is thought fit, that I assure you of great secrecy, as well as care, 
in diseases, where it is requisite; whether venereal or others ; as some 
peculiar to women, the green- sickness, weaknesses, inflammations, or 
obstructions in the stomach, reins, liver, spleen, &,c. ; for I would put 
no word in my bill that bears any unclean sound ; it is enough that I 
make myself understood. I have seen physician's bills as bawdy as 
Aretine^s Dialogues, which no man, that walks warily before God, can 
approve of; but I cure all suffocations, in those parts, producing fits of 
the mother, convulsions, nocturnal inquietudes, and other strange acci- 
dents, not fit to be set down here ; persuading young women very often 
that their hearts are like to break for love, when God knows, the distemper 
lies far enough from that place. 

'* I have, likewise, got the knowledge of a great secret to cure barren- 
ness (proceeding from any accidental cause as it often falls out, and no 



300 NOTES AND 

natural defect ; for nature is easily assisted, difficultly restored, but impos 
sible to be made more perfect by man, than God himself had at first 
created' and bestowed it), which I have made use of for many years with 
great success, especially this last year, wherein I have cured one woman 
that had been married twenty years, and another that had been married 
one and twenty years, and two women that had been three times mar- 
ried ; as I can make appear by the testimonies of several persons in 
London, Westminster, and other places thereabouts. The medicines I 
use cleanse and strengthen the womb, and are all to be taken in the space 
of seven days. And because I do not intend to deceive any person, upon 
discourse with them, I will tell them w^hether I am like to do them any 
good. My usual contract is, to receive one-half of what is agreed upon, 
when the party shall be quick with child, the other half when she is 
brought to bed. 

'^ Cures of this kind I have done, signal and many; for the which, I 
doubt not but I have the good wishes and hearty prayers of many fami- 
lies, who had else pined out their days under the deplorable and reproach- 
ful misfortunes of barren wombs, leaving plentiful estates and possessions 
to be inherited by strangers. 

" As to astrological predictions, physiognomy, divination by dreams, 
and otherwise (palmistry I have no faith in, because there can be no 
reason alleged for it), my own experience has convinced me more of their 
considerable effects, and marvellous operations, chiefly in the directions 
of future proceedings, to the avoiding of dangers that threaten, and laying 
hold of advantages that might offer themselves ; I say, my own practice 
has convinced me, more than all the sage and wise writings extant, of 
those matters ; for I might say this of myself (did it not look like osten- 
tation), that I have very seldom failed in my predictions, and often been 
very serviceable in my advice. How far I am capable in this way, I am 
sure is not tit to be delivered in print : those who have no opinion of the 
truth of this art, will not, I suppose, come to me about it ; such as have, 
I make no question of giving them ample satisfaction. 

" Nor will I be ashamed to set down here my willingness to practise 
rare secrets (though somewhat collateral to my profession), for the help, 
conservation, and augmentation of beauty and comeliness ; a thing created 
at first by God, chiefly for the glory of his own name, and then for the 
better establishment of mutual love between man and woman ; for when 
God had bestowed on man the power of strength and wisdom, and thereby 
rendered woman liable to the subjection of his absolute will, it seemed 
but requisite that she should be endued likewise, in recompense, with 
some quality that might beget in him admiration of her, and so enforce 
his tenderness and love. 

" The knowledge of these secrets, I gathered in my travels abroad 
(where I have spent my time ever since I was fifteen years old, to this 
my nine and twentieth year) in France and Italy. Those that have tra- 
velled in Italy, will tell you wdiat a miracle art does there assist nature 
in the preservation of beauty ; how women of forty bear the same coun- 
tenance with those of fifteen: ages are no way distinguished by faces ; 
whereas, here in England, look a horse in the mouth, and a woman in the 



ILLUSTRATiO^•S. oDl 

face, you presently know both their ages to a year. I will, therefore, give 
you such remedies, that, without destroying your complexion (as most of 
your paints and daubings do), shall render them perfectly fair ; clearing 
and preserving them from all spots, freckles, heats, pimples, and marks 
of the small-pox, or any other accidental ones, so the face be not seamed 
or scarred. 

** I will also cleanse and preserve your teeth white and round as pearls, 
fastening them that are loose : your gums shall be kept entire, as red as 
coral ; your lips of the same colour, and soft as you could wish your law- 
ful kisses. 

*' I will likewise administer that which shall cure the worst of breaths, 
provided the lungs be not totally perished and imposthumated ; as also 
certain and infallible remedies for those whose breaths are yet untainted ; 
so that nothing but either a very long sickness, or old age itself, shall ever 
be able to spoil them- 

*' I will, besides (if it be desired) '^G^e away from their fatness, who 
have over much, and add flesh to those that want it, without the least de- 
triment to their constitutions. 

*' Now, should Galen himself look out of his grave, and tell me these 
were baubles, below the profession of a physician, I would boldly answer 
him, that I take more glory in preserving God's image in its unblemished 
beauty, upon one good face, than I should do in patching up all the de- 
cayed carcasses in the world. 

** They that will do me the favour to come to me, shall be sure, from 
three of the clock in the afternoon, till eight at night (at my lodgings in 
Tower-street, next door to the sign of the Black Swan, at a goldsmith's 
house, to find 

^* Their humble servant, 

'* Alexander Bendo.'^] 

Note 143, Page 257. 

The best disgiiise they could thinJc of, was to disguise themselves like 
o^'ange- girls. 
These frolics appear to have been not unfrequent with persons of high 
rank at this period. In a letter from Mr. Henshaw to Sir Robert Fasten, 
afterwards Earl of Yarmouth, dated October 13, 1670, we have the fol- 
lowing account : " Last week, there being a faire neare Audley-end> the 
queen, the Dutchess of Richmond, and the Dutchess of Buckingham, had 
a frolick to disguise themselves like country lasses, in red petticoats, wast- 
cotes, &;c., and so goe see the faire. Sir Bernard Gascoign, on a cart jade, 
rode before the queen ; another stranger before the Dutchess of Bucking- 
ham ; and Mr. Roper before Richmond. They had all so overdone it in 
their disguise, and looked so much more like antiques than country volk, 
that, as soon as they came to the faire, the people began to goe after them ; 
but the queen going to a booth, to buy a pair of yellow stocking for her 
sweet hart, and Sir Bernard asking for a pair of gloves sticht with blew, 
for his sweet hart, they were soon, by their gebrish, found to be strangers, 
which drew a bigger flock about them. One amongst them had seen the 



S92 NOTES AND 

queen at dinner, knew her, and was proud of her knowledge. This soon 
brought all the faire into a crowd to stare at the queen. Being thus dis- 
covered, they, as soon as they could, got to their horses ; but as many of 
ihe faire as had horses got up, with their wives, children, sweet harts, or 
neighbours, behind them, to get as much gape as they could, till they 
brought them to the court gate. Thus, by ill conduct, was a merry frolick 
turned into a penance.'' — Ives^s Select Papers, p. 39. 

Bishop Burnet says, " At this time (1668), the court fell into much ex- 
travagance in masquerading : both the king and queen, and all the court, 
went about masked, and came into houses unknown, and danced there, 
with a great deal of wild frolic. In all this people were so disguised, that, 
without being in the secret, none could distinguish them. They were car- 
ried about in hackney chairs. Once the queen's chairmen, not knowing 
who she w'as, w^ent from her. So she was alone, and was much disturbed, 
and came to Whitehall in a hackney coach ; some say in a cart." — Pyiir- 
ncfs Histori/y vol. i. p. 368. 

Note 144, Page 259 
BrounJcer, 

Gentleman of the chamber to the Duke of York, and brother to Lord 
Viscount Brounker, president of the Royal Society. Lord Clarendon im- 
putes to him the cause of the great sea-fight, in 1665, not being so well 
improved as it might have been^ and adds, ** Nor did the duke come to 
hear of it till some years after, when Mr. Brounker' s ill course of life, and 
his abominable nature, had rendered him so odious, that it was taken no- 
tice of in parliament, and, upon examination, found to be true, as is here 
related ; upon which he was expelled the House of Commons, whereof he 
was a member, as an infamous person, though his friend Coventry adhered 
to him, and used many indirect acts to have protected him, and afterwards 
procured him to have more countenance from the king than most men 
thought he deserved ; being a person, throughout his whole life, never 
notorious for any thing but the highest degree of impudence, and stooping 
to the most infamous offices, and playing very well at chess, which pre- 
ferred him more than the most virtuous qualities could have done." — 
Continuation of Clarendon^ s Life, p. 270. 

[The English fleet on this occasion was commanded by James, Duke of 
York. Burnet says, ** When the two fleets met, it is well known what 
accidents disordered the Dutch, and w^hat advantage the English had. If 
that first success had been followed, as was proposed, it might have been 
fatal to the Dutch, who, finding they had suffered so much, steered off. 
The duke ordered all the sail to be set on to overtake them. There was 
a council of war called, to concert the method of action, when they should 
come up with them. In that council, Pen, who commanded under the 
duke, happened to say that they must prepare for hotter work in the next 
engagement. He knew well the courage of the Dutch was never so high, 
as when they were desperate. The Earl of Montague, who was then a 
volunteer, and one of the duke's court, said to me, it was very visible that 
made an impression. And all tlie duke's domestics said, he had got 



ILLUSTKATIONS. 893 

honour enough : why should he venture a second time ? The duchess had 
also given a strict charge to all the duke's servants, to do all they could to 
hinder him to engage too far. When matters were settled, they went to 
sleep ; and the duke ordered a call to be given him, when they should get 
up to the Dutch fleet. It is not known what passed between the duke and 
Brounker, who was of his bed-chamber, and was then in waiting ; but he 
came to Pen, as from the duke, and said the duke ordered the sail to be 
slackened. Pen was struck with the order, but did not go to argue the 
matter with the duke himself, as he ought to have done, but obeyed it. 
V\'hen the duke had slept, he, upon his waking, went out on the quarter 
deck, and seemed amazed to see the sails slackened, and that thereby all 
hope of overtaking the Dutch was lost. He questioned Pen upon it. 
Pen put it on Brounker, who said nothing. The duke denied he had given 
any such order. But he neither punished Brounker for carrying it, nor 
Pen for obeying it. He indeed put Brounker out of his service : and it 
was said, that he durst do no more, because he was so much in the king's 
favour, and in the mistress's." 

Pepys thus notices him in his Diary ; August 29th, 1667. '' I hear to- 
night that Mr. Brounker is turned away yesterday by the Duke of York, 
for some bold words he was heard by Colonel Werden to say in the garden 
the day the chancellor w^as with the king — that he believed the king would 
be hectored out of everything. For this, the Duke of York, who all say 
hath been very strong for his father-in-law at this trial, hath turned him 
away : and everybody, I think, is glad of it ; for he was a pestilent rogue, 
an atheist, that would have sold his king and country for sixpence almost, 
so corrupt and wicked a rogue he is by all men's report. But one observed 
to me, that there never was the occasion of men's holding their tongues 
at court, and everywhere else, as there is at this day, for nobody knows 
which side will be uppermost."] 

Note 145, Page 262. 
Mrs. WetenhalL 
Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Henry Bedingfleld, and v/ife of Thomas 
Wetenhall, of Hextall Court, near East Peckham, in the county of Kent. 
— See Collirt's Baronetage ^ p. 216. The family of Whetenhall, or Whet- 
nail, was possessed of the estate of Hextall Court from the time of Henry 
VIII. until within a few years past, when one of them, Henry Wheten- 
hall, Esq. alienated it to John Fane, Earl of Westmoreland. Of this 
family was Edward Whetenhall, a celebrated polemical writer, w-ho, in 
1668, w^as consecrated bishop of Corke and Ross. — See Wood's At/ience 
Ga;o7iiensis, vol. ii. pp. 851, 998. 

Note 146, Page 264. 

Peckham. 

•' Peckham is about ten miles off Tunbridge Wells. Sir William 

Twisden has an ancient mansion here, w-hich has been long in that 

family." — Burr's History of Tunhridge Wells, 8vo. 1776, p. 237. Mr. 



394 NOTES AND 

Hasted says, the estate was purchased by Sir William Twisden of Henry 
Whetenhall, Esq. — Hasted's Kent, vol. ii. p. 274. 

Note 147, Page 266. 
This is the Hamilton who served in the French army ivith distinction, 

I apprehend he is the same George Hamilton already described, who 
married Miss Jennings, and not the author of this work, as Lord Orford 
supposes. In a letter from Arlington to Sir William Godolphin, dated 
September 7, 1671, it is said, " the Conde de Molina complains to us of 
certain levies Sir George Hamilton hath made in Ireland. The king hath 
always told him he had no express license for it ; and 1 have told the Conde 
he must not iind it strange that a gentleman who had been bred the king's 
page abroad, and losing his employment at home, for being a Roman 
Catholic, should have some more than ordinary connivance towards the 
making his fortune abroad by the countenance of his friends and relations 
in Ireland : and yet take the matter in the worst sense he could give, it 
would not amount to the breach of any article betwixt the king my master 
and the court of Spain." — Arlington's Letters, vol. ii. p. 332. In a let- 
ter from the same nobleman to Lord Sandwich, written about October, 
1667, we find the cause of Sir George Hamilton's entering into the French 
service : " Concerning the reformadoes of the guards of horse, his majesty 
thought fit the other day to have them dismissed, according to his promise, 
made to the parliament at the last session. Mr. Hamilton had a secret 
overture made him, that he, with those men, should be welcome into the 
French service ; his majesty, at their dismission, having declared they 
should have leave to go abroad whither they pleased. They accepted of 
Mr. Hamilton's offner to carry them into France." — Arlington' s Letters, 
vol, i. p. 185. Lodge, in his Peerage of Ireland, says Sir George Hamil- 
ton died in 1667, which, from the first extract above, appears to be erro- 
neous. He has evidently confounded the father and son ; the former of 
whom was the person who died in 1667. 

Note 148, Page 267. 
The court set out soon after. 
This was in 1664, probably as soon as the queen was sufficiently reco- 
vered from the illness mentioned in note on p. 365. See Burr's History 
of Tunhridge Wells, p. 43. 

Note 149, Page 268. 
Lord MusJcerry, 
Eldest son to the Earl of Clancarty ; '*a young man," says Lord 
Clarendon, "of extraordinary courage and expectation, who had been 
colonel of a regiment of foot in Flanders, under the duke, and had the 
general estimation of an excellent officer. He was of the duke's bed- 
chamber ; and the earl (z. e. of Falmouth) and he were at that time so 
near the duke, that his highness was all covered with their blood. There 
fell, likewise, in the same ship, and at the same instant, Mr. Richard Boyle, 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 395 

a younger son of the Earl of Burlington, a youth of great hope.'' — Con- 
tinuation of Clarendon's Life, p. 266. 

xNFoTE 150, Page 268. 
Summer -hill. 
Lord Orford supposes this place came to Lord Muskerry through the 
means of his elder brother ; but in this he is mistaken, as it belonged to 
him in right of his wife, the only daughter of Lord Clanrickard. This 
seat is about five miles from the wells, and was once the residence and pro- 
perty of Sir Francis Walsingham, from whom it descended to his daughter 
Frances, who married first Sir Philip Sydney ; secondly, the unfortunate 
Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex ; and lastly, Richard de Burgh, Marquis 
of Clanrickard. In WalJcer^s History of Independence, we are told, 
that '* Somer-hill, a pleasant seat, worth one thousand pounds a year, be- 
longing to the Earl of St. Alban's (who was also Marquis of Clanrickard), 
is given by the junto to the blood-hound Bradshaw. So he hath warned 
the Countesse of Leicester, who formerly had it in possession, to raise a 
debt of three thousand pounds, pretended due to her from the said earle 
(which she hath already raised four-fold), to quiet the possession against 
our Lord's day next." At the Restoration it seems to have returned to its 
original owner. It is now the residence of William Woodgate, Esq. A 
writer, supposed to be the Reverend Mr. Richard Oneley, thus describes 
it in 1771 : "The house being too large for the family of the present pos- 
sessor, some of the state rooms are not made use of, or furnished ; but in 
them are still remaining superb chimney-pieces, fine carved wainscot, and 
other monuments of their former grandeur and magnificence. In the di- 
ning-room, above stairs, are figures, flowers, and other ornaments in stucco ; 
particularly, a representation in relievo, over the chimney-piece, of the 
angelic host (as it is thought) rejoicing in the creation of the world ; a de- 
sign seemingly taken from Job, chap, xxxvii. v. 7. The house is inclosed 
Tvith four courts, E.W. N. S. The front court, through which is the grand 
approach to the house, looks towards the west ; from whence you have a 
fine prospect to the Surrey hills before you, arvd Seven-oak hills on the 
right. The prospect is limited by Baron Smythe's park on the left. The 
town and castle of Tunbridge, the navigable river Medway, and the rich 
meadows through which it runs, finely diversified with corn-fields, pastur- 
age, hop-gardens, and orchards, are here in full view, and form a most 
beautiful scene. From the opposite court, on the west side of the house, 
are seen the Canterbury hills, near Dover, at the distance of about fifty 
miles ; but this view, and the several objects it comprises, is best enjoyed 
from a rising hill, on which grow two large oaks, at a little distance south- 
ward from the house. From this stand, a stranger may behold at leisure 
a valley equal to Tempe, Andalusia, or Tinian." — General Account of 
Tunlridge Wells and its Environs : printed for G. Pearch, 8vo, p. 37. 
Mr. Hasted says, "■ that Lady Muskerry having, by her expensive way of 
life, wasted her estate, she, by piece-meals, sold off a great part of the 
demesne lands, lying mostly on the southern side of South-frith, to dif- 
ferent persons ; and djnng in great distress, was buried accordingly, about 
the year \ms:' -^History Df Kent, vol. ii. p. 341. 



396 NOTES A^D 

Note 151, Page 269. 
Prince Riq)crt. 
Lord Orford's contrast to this character of Prince Rupert is too just to 
be here omitted. ** Born with the taste of an uncle whom his sword was 
not fortunate in defending, Prince Rupert was fond of those. sciences which 
soften and adorn a hero's private hours, and knew how to mix them with 
his minutes of amusement, without dedicating his life to their pursuit, like 
us, who, wanting capacity for momentous views, make serious study of 
what is only the transitory occupation of a genius. Had the court of the 
lirst Charles been peaceful, how agreeably had the prince's congenial pro- 
pensity flattered and confirmed the inclination of his uncle ! How the muse 
of arts would have repaid the patronage of the monarch, when, for his first 
artist, she would have presented him with his nephew ! How different a 
figure did the same prince make in a reign of dissimilar complexion ! The 
pliilosophic warrior, who could relax himself into the ornament of a re- 
fined court, was thought a savage mechanic, when courtiers were only vo- 
luptuous wits. Let me transcribe a picture of Prince Rupert, drawn by 
a man who was far from having the least portion of wit in that age, who 
was superior to its indelicacy, and who yet was so overborne by its preju- 
dices, that he had the complaisance to ridicule virtue, merit, talents. — 
But Prince Rupert, alas ! was an awkward lover ! '^ Lord Orford here 
inserts the character in the text, and then adds, ^* What pity that we, who 
wish to transmit this prince's resemblance to posterity on a fairer canvas, 
have none of these inimitable colours to enface the harsher likeness I We 
can but oppose facts to wit, truth to satire. — How unequal the pencils ! 
yet what these lines cannot do, they may suggest : they may induce the 
reader to reflect, that if the prince was defective in the transient varnish 
of a court, he at least was adorned by the arts with that polish which 
alone can make a court attract the attention of subsequent ages.'' — Cata- 
logue of Engravers, p. 135, 8vo. ed. 

[Lord Orford thus relates the circumstance of his inventing mezzo- 
tinto : ^* We must takg up the prince in his laboratory, begrimed, 
uncombed, perhaps in a dirty shirt ; on the day I am going to mention, 
he certainly had not shaved and powdered to charm Miss Hughes, for it 
happened in his retirement at Brussels, after the catastrophe of his uncle. 
Going out early one 'morning, he observed the sentinel, at some distance 
from his post, very busy doing something to his piece. The prince 
asked what he was about ? He rephed, the dew had fallen in the night, 
liad made his fusil rusty, and that he was scraping and cleaning it. The 
prince looking at it, was struck with something like a figure eaten into 
the barrel, with innumerable little holes closed together, like friezed work 
on gold or silver, part of which the fellow had scraped away. 

** One knows what a mere good officer would have said on such an 
accident ; if a fashionable officer, he might have damned the poor fellow, 
and given him a shilling : but the Genie fecond en experiences from so 
trifling an accident conceived mezzotinto. The prince concluded that 
some contrivance might be found to cover a brass plate with such a 
grained ground of fine pressed holes, which would undoubtedly give an 



ILLUSTRATION'S, 397 

impression all black, and that by scraping away proper parts, the smooth 
(Superficies would leave the rest of the paper white. Communicating his 
idea to Wallerant Vaillant, a painter whom he maintained, they made 
several experiments, and at last invented a steel roller, cut with tools 
to make teeth like a file or rasp, with projecting points, which efi"ectually 
produced the black grounds ; those being scraped away and diminished at 
pleasure, left the gradations of light/' 

Evelyn, in his Diary, March 13, 1661, says : ** This afternoon, Prince 
Rupert shewed me with his own hands the new way of graving called 
mezzotinto, which afterwards, by his permission, I published in my 
history of Chalcography ; this set so many artists on work, that they 
soon arrived to the perfection it is since come, emulating the tenderest 
miniatures/' 

Pepys, in his Diary, February 4, 1664-5, says : *' My Lord Bellasses 
told us an odd passage ; how the king having put out Prince Rupert of 
his generalship, upon some miscarriage at Bristol, and Sir Richard Willis 
of his governorship of Newark, at the entreaty of the gentry of the 
county, and put in my Lord Bellasses ; the great officers of the king's 
army mutinied, and came in that manner with swords drawn, into the mar- 
ket-place of the tov/n where the king was ; which the king hearing, says : 
* I must horse.' And there himself personally, when everybody expected 
they should have been opposed, the king came, and cried to the head of 
the mutineers, which was Prince Rupert, * Nephew, I command you to 
be gone.' So the prince, in all his fury and discontent, withdrew, and 
his company scattered." 

Dallaway says : ** He was the author of several inventions of decided 
utility, in his own profession, of a method to bore cannons, and of a 
mixed metal, of which they should be composed, and of great improve- 
ment in the m.anufacture of gunpowder. He communicated to Christopher 
Kirby a method of tempering steel for the best fish-hooks ever made in 
England." 

Prince Rupert was also famous for his play at tennis, and for being an 
excellent shot. A particular instance of his skill is mentioned by Plot, 
where he is said to have sent two balls successively, with a horse-pistol, 
through the weather-cock of St. Mary's steeple at Stafford. The dis- 
tan'ie was sixty yards, and the feat was performed in the presence of 
Charles I.] 

Note 152, Page 269. 
Hughes, 
Mrs. Hughes was one of the actresses belonging to the king's com- 
pany, and one of the earliest female performers. According to Downes, 
she commenced her theatrical career after the opening of Drury-lane 
theatre, in 1663. She appears to have been the first female representa- 
tive of Desdemona. By Prince Rupert she had a daughter, named 
Ruperta, married to Lieutenant-general Howe, who survived her hus- 
band many years, dying at Somerset House about the year 1740. For 
Mrs. Hughes Prince Rupert bought the magnificent seat of Sir Nicholas 
Crispe, near Hammersmith, late the residence of the Margrave of Bran- 



398 NOTES AND 

denburgh, and afterwards of Queen Caroline, wife of Geo. IV., which 
cost 25,000/. the building. From the dramatis personce to Tom 
Essence, licensed 1676, we find Mrs. Hughes was then on the stage, and 
in the duke's company. 

Note 152, Page 273. 
The Duke of York took a journey the other side of London, 
In Sir John Reresby's Memoirs, 8vo., 1735, p. 11, sub anno 1665, it 
is said, Aug. 5, ** His Royal Highness the Duke and his duchess came 
down to York, where it was observed that Mr. Sydney, the handsomest 
youth of his time, and of the duke's bed-chamber, was greatly in love with 
the duchess ; and well he might be excused ; for the duchess, daughter to 
Chancellor Hyde, was a very handsome personage, and a woman of fine 
wit. The duchess, on her part, seemed kind to him, but very innocently; 
but he had the misfortune to be banished the court afterwards, for 
another reason, as was reported.'' Burnet mentions this transaction, and 
insinuates, to this cause is to be ascribed the duchess's conversion to 
popery. — See Burnet's History of his Own Times^ vol. i. p. 318. 

Note 153, Page 274. 
Churchill, 
Miss Arabella Churchill, daughter of Sir Winston Churchill, of Wotton 
Basset, in the county of Wilts, and sister to the celebrated John, Duke of 
Marlborough, She was born 1648. By the Duke of York she was 
mother of — 1. James, Duke of Berwick ; 2. Henry Fitz- James, commonly 
called the Grand Prior, born 1673, who was, after the Revolution, created 
by his father Duke of Albemarle, and died 1702 ; 3. Henrietta, born 1670, 
married to Lord Waldegrave, and died 1730. Miss Churchill afterwards 
became the wife of Charles Godfrey, Esq., clerk- comptroller of the green 
cloth, and master of the jewel office, by whom she had two daughters ; 
one, Charlotte, married to Lord Falmouth ; and the other, Elizabeth, 
to Edmund Dunch, Esq. Mrs. Godfrey died in May, 1730, at the age 
of 82. 

[The feelings and situation of this woman about the beginning of the 
last century must have been strange and interesting. She had survived 
her lover, husband, and children. The sovereign who had loved her 
had been dethroned and exiled ; her husband was serving against him ; 
her brother (Duke of Marlborough) w^as opposed to the armies of Louis 
XIV. ; and her not less illustrious son (Marshal Due de Berwick) was 
defending the interests of that monarch in Spain.] 

Note 154, Page 280. 

Montagu'' s elder brother having^ having very a projpos^ got himself 

killed where he had no business. 

Montagu's elder brother was killed before Bergen, about August, ]665. 

See Arlington'' s Letters, vol. ii., p. 87. His name was Edward. Boyer, 

who, in his life of Queen Anne, has made several mistakes about him, says 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 399 

he was dismissed for offending her majesty, by squeezing her hand. Pro- 
bably he was disgraced for a time, and on that account went abroad. — See 
Continuation of Clarendon, p. 292. 
He is mentioned in the State Poems as 

** Montague, by court disaster, 

Dwindled into the wooden horse's master.'^ 

Advice to a Painter., Part I. 

Note 155, Page 292. 
' Madame, 

Henrietta, youngest daughter of Charles the First, born at Exeter, 16th 
June, 1644, from whence she was removed to London in 1646, and, with 
her governess, Lady Dalkeith, soon afterwards conveyed to France. On 
the Restoration, she came over to England with her mother, but returned to 
France in about six months,, and was married to Philip, Duke of Orleans, 
only brother of Lewis XIV. In May, 1760, she came again to Dover, 
on a mission of a political nature, it is supposed, from the French king to 
her brother, in which she was successful. She died, soon after her return 
to France, suddenly, not without suspicion of having been poisoned by 
her husband. King James, in his Diary, says, ** On the 22nd of June, 
the news of the Duchess of Orleans' death arrived. It was suspected that 
counter-poisons were given her ; but when she was opened, in the pre- 
sence of the English ambassador, the Earl of Ailesbury, an English 
physician, and surgeon, there appeared no grounds of suspicion of any 
foul play. Yet Bucks talked openly that she was poisoned ; and was so 
violent as to propose to foreign ministers to make war on France." — 
Macpherson' s Original Papers, vol. 1. At the end of Lord Arlington's 
Letters are five very remarkable ones from a person of quality, who is 
said to have been actually on the spot, giving a particular relation of her 
death. 

[Pepys in his Diary, Nov. 22nd, 1660, says, ^*The Princess Henrietta 
is very pretty, but much below my expectation ; and her dressing of herself 
with her hair frizzed short up to her ears, did make her seem so much the 
less to me. But my wife standing near her with two or three black 
patches on, did seem to me much handsomer than she.] 

Note 156, Page 294. 
The Dulce of Monmouth. 
James, Duke of Monmouth, was the son of Charles II., by one 
Lucy Walters. He was born at Rotterdam, April 9, 1649, and bore the 
name of James Crofts until the Restoration. His education was chiefly at 
Paris, under the eye of the queen- mother, and the government of Thomas 
Ross, Esq., who was afterwards secretary to Mr. Coventry during his 
embassy in Sweden. At the Restoration he was brought to England, and 
received with joy by his father, who heaped honours and riches upon 
him, which were not sufficient to satisfy his ambitious views. To exclude 
his uncle, the Duke of York, from the throne, he was continually intri- 



400 NOTES AND 

giiing witli the opposers of governraent, and was frequently in disgrace 
with his sovereign. On the accession of James II. he made an ineffectual 
attempt to raise a rebellion, was taken prisoner, and beheaded on Tower- 
hill, 15th July, 1G85. Mr. Macpherson has drawn his character in the 
following terms : ** Monmouth, highly beloved by the populace, was a fit 
instrument to carry forward his (z. e. Shaftesbury's) designs. To a grace- 
fulness which prejudiced mankind in his favour as soon as seen, he joined 
an affability which gained their love. Constant in his friendships, and 
just to his word, by nature tender, and an utter enemy to severity and 
cruelty, active and vigorous in his constitution, he excelled in the manly- 
exercises of the field. He was personally brave. He loved the pomp 
and the very dangers of war. But with these splendid qualities, he was 
vain to a degree of folly, versatile in his measures, weak in his understand- 
ing. He was ambitious without dignity, busy without consequence, 
attempting ever to be artful, but always a fool. Thus, taking the applause 
of the multitude for a certain mark of merit, he was the dupe of his own 
vanity, and owed all his misfortunes to that weakness. — Macphersort^ s 
Oi^iginal Fapers^ vol. i., chap. iii. 

[Evelyn gives the following account of the Duke of Monmouth's rebel- 
lion and his execution, June I4th, 1685. ** There was now certaine intel- 
ligence of the Duke of Monmouth landing at Lyme in Dorsetshire, and 
of his having set up his standard as King of England. I pray God deliver 
us from the confusion which these beginnings threaten ! '' 

June 17th. ** The duke landed with but 150 men, but the whole king- 
dom was alarm'd, fearing that the disaffected would joyn them, many of 
the train'd bands flocking to him. At his landing he published a declara- 
tion, charging his ma^^ with usurpation and several horrid crimes, on pre- 
tence of his owne title, and offering to call a free parliament. This decla- 
ration was order'd to be burnt by the hangman, the duke proclaim'd a 
tray tor, and a reward of 5,000/. to any who should kill him." 

July 2nd. "No considerable account of the troops sent against the 
duke, tho' greate forces sent. There was a smart skirmish, but he would 
not beprovok'd to come to an encounter, but still kept in the fastnesses." 

July 8th. " Came news of Monmouth's utter defeate, and the next 
day of his being taken by S'^ W*" Portman and Lord Lumley with the mi- 
litia of their counties. It seemes the horse, commanded by Lord Grey, 
being newly rais'd and undisciplin'd, were not to be brought in so short a 
time to endure the fire, which expos'd the foote to the king's, so as when 
Ivlonmouth had led the foote in greate silence and order, thinking to sur- 
prise Lieut* Gen^ Lord Feversham newly encamp'd, and given him a smart 
charge, interchanging both greate and small shot, the horse, breaking their 
owne ranks, Monmouth gave it over, and fled with Grey, leaving their 
party to be cut in pieces to the number of 2,000. The whole number re- 
ported to be above 8,000, the king's but 2,700. The slaine were most of 
them Mendip -miners, who did greate execution with their tooles, and sold 
their lives very dearely, whilst their leaders flying were pursu'd and taken 
the next morning, not far from one another. Monmouth had gone sixteen 
miles on foote, changing his habite for a poore coate, and was found by 
Lord Lumley in a dry ditch cover'd with fern-brakes, but without sword, 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 40L 

pistol, or any vreapon, and so might have pass'd for some countryman, his 
beard being grov^'n so long and so grey as hardly to be known, had not his 
George discover'd him, which was found in his pocket. 'Tis said he 
trembl'd exceedingly all over, not able to speake. Grey was taken not far 
from him. Most of his party were Anabaptists and poore clothworkers of 
y^ country, no gentlemen of account being come in to him. The arch- 
boutefeu Ferguson, Matthews, &c. were not yet found. The 5,000/. to 
be given to whoever should bring Monmouth in, was to be distributed 
among the militia by agreement between S"^ W"^ Portman and Lord Lumley. 
The battail ended, some words, first in jest, then in passion, pass'd between 
Sherrington Talbot (a worthy gent", son to S^ John Talbot, and w^ho had 
behav'd himselfe very handsomely) and one Capt. Love, both commanders 
of the militia, as to whose souldiers fought best, both drawing their swords 
and passing at one another. Sherrington was wounded to death on the 
spot, to the greate regret of those who knew him. He was Sir John's 
only son." 

July 15th. ^* Monmouth was this day brought to London and examined 
before the king, to whom he made great submission, acknowledged his 
seduction by Ferguson the Scot, whom he nam'd y^ bloudy villain. He 
w^as sent to y'^ Tower, had an interview with his late dutchesse, whom he 
receiv'd coldly, having lived dishonestly wdth y^ Lady Henrietta Went- 
worth for two yeares. He obstinately asserted his conversation with that 
debauch'd woman to be no sin, whereupon, seeing he could not be per- 
suaded to his last breath, the divines who were sent to assist him thought 
not fit to administer the Holy Communion to him. For y^ rest of his 
faults he profess'd greate sorrow, and so died without any apparent feare ; 
he would not make use of a cap or other circumstance, but lying downe, 
bid the fellow do his office better than to the late Lord Russell, and gave 
him gold ; but the w^retch made five chopps before he had his head off ; 
w'^^ so incens'd the people, that had he not been guarded and got away, 
they would have torn him to pieces. 

^' The duke made no speech on the scaffold (w^^ w^as on Tower-hill), but 
gave a paper containing not above five or six lines, for the king, in which 
he disclaims all title to y*' crowm, acknowledges that the late king, his fa- 
ther, had indeede told him he was but his base sonn, and so desir'd his 
ma^J" to be kind to his wife and children. This relation I had from Dr. 
Tenison (rector of St. Martin's), who, with the Bishops of Ely and Bath 
and Wells, were sent to him by his ma^J", and were at the execution. 

** Thus ended this quondam duke, darling of his father and y^ ladies, being 
extreamly handsome and adroit ; an excellent souldier and dancer, a fa- 
vourite of the people, of an easy nature, debauched by lust, seduc'd by 
crafty knaves who would have set him up only to make a property, and 
took the opportunity of the king being of another religion, to gather a 
party of discontented men. He fail'd, and perish'd. 

" He was a lovely person, had a virtuous and excellent lady that brought 
him greate riches, and a second dukedom in Scotland. He was master of 
the horse, general of the king his father's army, gentleman of the bed- 
chamber, knight of the garter, chancellor of Cambridge, in a word, had ac- 
cumulations without end. See what ambition and want of principles brought 



402 NOTES AND 

him to : He was beheaded on Tuesday, I4th July. His mother, whose 
name was Barlow, daughter of some very raeane creatures, was a beautiful 
strumpet, whom I had often seene at Paris ; she died miserably without 
any thing to bury her ; yet this Perkin had ben made to believe that the 
king had married her ; a monstrous and ridiculous forgerie ; and to satisfy 
the world of the iniquity of the report, the king his father (if his father 
he really was, for he most resembl'd one Sidney, who was familiar with 
his mother) publickly and irost solemnly renounc'd it, to be so enter'd 
in the council booke some yeares since, with all the privy councellors 
attestCition."] 

Note 157, Page 295. 
An Jieiress of five thousand pounds a year m Scotland. 
This was Lady Anne Scott, daughter and sole heir of Francis, l^arl of 
Buccleugh, only son and heir of Walter, Lord Scott, created Earl of 
Buccleugh in 1619. On their marriage the duke took the surname of 
Scott, and he and his lady were created Duke and Duchess of Buccleugh, 
Earl and Countess of Dalkeith, Baron and Baroness of Whitchester and 
Ashdale, in Scotland, by letters patent, dated April 20th, 1673. Also, 
two days after he was installed at Windsor, the king and queen, the Duke 
of York, and most of the court being present. The next day, being St. 
George's day, his majesty solemnized it with a royal feast, and entertained 
the knights companions in St. George's hall in the castle of Windsor. 
Though there were several children of this marriage, it does not appear 
to have been a happy one ; the duke, without concealment, attaching him- 
self to Lady Harriet Wentworth, w^hom, with his dying breath, he declared 
he considered as his only wife in the sight of God. The duchess, in May, 
1688, took to her second husband Charles, Lord Cornwallis. She died 
Feb. 6, 1731-2, in the 81st year of her age, and was buried at Dalkeith, in 
Scotland. Our author is not more correct about figures than he avows 
himself to be in the arrangement of facts and dates : the duchess's fortune 
was much greater than he has slated it to have been. 

Note 158, Page 296. 
Killegrew, 
Thomas Killegrew was one of the sons of Sir Robert Killegrew, cham- 
berlain to the queen, and was born at Hanworth, in the county of Mid- 
dlesex, in the month of February, 1611. He seems to have been early 
intended for the court, and to qualify him for rising there, every circum- 
stance of his education appears to have been adapted. He was appointed 
page of honour to King Charles I., and faithfully adhered to his cause 
until the death of his master ; after which he attended his son in his exile ; 
to whom he was highly acceptable, on account of his social and convivial 
qualifications. He married Mrs. Cecilia Ci'ofts, one of the maids of 
honour to Queen Henrietta. In 1651 he was sent to Venice, as resident 
at that state, although, says Lord Clarendon, ** the king was much dis- 
suaded from it, but afterwards his majesty was prevailed upon, only to 
gratify him, that in that capacity he might borrow money of English rner- 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 403 

chants for his own subsistence ; which he did, and nothing to the honour 
of his master ; but was at last compelled to leave the republic for his 
vicious behaviour ; of which the Venetian ambassador complained to the 
king, when he came afterwards to Paris.'' On his return from Venice, 
Sir John Denham wrote a copy of verses, printed in his w^orks, bantering 
the foibles of his friend Killegrew ; who, from his account, was as little 
sensible to the miseries of exile as his royal master. His attachment to 
the interests of Charles II. continued unabated, and at the Restoration he 
was appointed groom of the bed-chamber, and became so great a favourite 
with his majesty, that he was admitted into his company on terms cf 
the most unrestrained familiarity, when audience was refused to the first 
ministers, and even on the most important occasions. It does not appear 
that he availed himself of his interest with the king, either to amass a for- 
tune, or to advance himself in the state : we do not find that he obtained 
any other preferment than the post of master of the revels, which he held 
with that of groom of the bed-chamber. Oldys says he was king's jester 
at the same time ; but although he might, and certainly did, entertain his 
majesty in that capacity, it can scarce be imagined to have been in conse- 
quence of any appointment of that kind. He died at Whitehall, 19th 
March, 1682, bewailed, as it is said, by his friends, and truly wept for by 
the poor. [Pepys thus relates " Thos. Killegrew's way of getting to see 
plays when he was a boy. He v/ould go to ihe Red Bull, and when the 
man cried to the boys, ' Who will go and be a devil, and he shall see the 
play for nothing?' then would he go in, and be a devil upon the stage, 
and so ge<- to see plays." He also says in his Diary, Dec, 9th, 1666 : 
** Mr. Pierce did tell me as a great truth, as being told him by Mr. Cowly 
(Abraham Cowley, the poet), who was by and heard it, that Tom Killegrew 
publicly told the king that his matters were coming into a very ill state ; 
but that yet there was a way to help all. Says he, * There is a good, 
honest, able man that I could name, that if your majesty would employ, 
and command to see all things well executed, all things would soon be 
mended ; and this is one Charles Stuart, w^ho now spends his tim>e in em- 
ploying his lips about the court, and hath no other employment ; but if 
you w^ould give him this employment, he were the fittest man in the w^orld 
to perform it.' " Again, Feb. 12th, 1*666-7 : " Thos. Killegrew tells me 
how the audience at his house is not above half so much as it used to be 
before the late fire. That Knipp is like to make the best actor that ever 
come upon the stage, she understanding so w^ell : that they are going to 
give her 30^. a year more. That the stage is now by his pains a thousand 
times better and more glorious than ever heretofore. Now w^ax candles, 
and many of them ; then not above 31bs. of tallow : now^ all things civil, no 
rudeness anywhere ; then, as in a bear-garden ; then two or three fiddlers, 
now nine or ten of the best : then nothing but rushes upon the ground, 
and every thing else mean; now all otherwise: then the queen seldom, 
and the king never, would come ; now, not the king only for state, but all 
civil people do think they may come as well as any. He tells me that he 
hath gone several times (eight or ten times, he tells me) hence to Rome, 
to hear good music ; so much he loves it, though he never did sing or 
play a note. That he hath ever endeavoured in the late king's time, and 

2 D 2 



404 NOTES AND 

in this, to introduce good music, but he never could do it, there never 
having been any music here better than ballads. And says * Hermitt poore' 
and ' Chiny Chese' was all the music we had ; and yet no ordinary fiddlers 
get so much money as ours do here, which speaks our rudeness still. That 
he hath gathered our Italians from several courts in Christendom, to come 
to make a concert for the king, which he do give 200/. a year apiece to ; 
but badly paid, and do come in the room of keeping four ridiculous Gun- 
dilows, he having got the king to put them away, and lay out money this 
way. And indeed I do commend him for it ; for I think it is a very 
noble undertaking. He do intend to have sometimes of the year these 
operas to be performed at the two present theatres, since he is defeated in 
what he intended in Moorefields on purpose for it. And he tells me plainly 
that the city audience was as good as the court ; but now they are most 
gone.'' 

The following anecdotes are also preserved : — ^' On one occasion, Kille- 
grew entered the king's apartment without ceremony, equipped in boots, 
&c., as if he was going a journey. 'What, Killegrew,' cried Charles, 

* where are you going in such a violent hurry ?' 'To hell !' said Killegrew, 

* to fetch up Oliver Cromwell, to look after the affairs of England, for his 
successor never will.' " 

** The council had one day assembled, and the king, as usual, not making 
his appearance, the Duke of Lauderdale hastened to remonstrate with him, 
but his entreaties were of no avail. On quitting the presence-chamber he 
met Killegrew, who, on learning his errand, offered to bet him 100/. that 
Charles should attend the council in half an hour, which the duke, feeling 
certain of winning the money, instantly accepted. Killegrew immediately 
entered the king's apartment, and related to him the whole circumstance. 

* 1 know,' he proceeded, * that your majesty hates Lauderdale ; now, if you 
go only this once to the council, I know his covetous disposition so well, 
that, rather than pay the 100/., he will hang himself, and never plague 
you again.' Charles could not refrain from laughing : — * Well, Killegrew,' 
he cried, * 1 positively will go !' He kept his word, and the wager was 
won."] 

Note 159, Page 298. 

The DuJce of BucJcingham and Lady Shrewsbury remained for a long 
period both happy and. contented. 
In a letter from Andrew Marvell, dated August 9, 7 671, he says^ 
" Buckingham runs out all with the Lady Shrewsbury, whom he believes 
he had a son (by,) to whom the king stood godfather: it died young. 
Earl of Coventry, and was buried in the sepulchre of his fathers.'' — Mar- 
veil's Works y vol. i. p. 406. The duel in which the Earl of Shrewsbury 
was killed by the Duke of Buckingham happened 16th March, 1667. 

Note 160, Page 299. 
The Duchess of Buc king ham. 
'* Mary, Duchess of Buckingham, was the only daughter of Tliomas^ 
Lord Fairfax, and Anne, the daughter of Horace, Lord Verc ; a most vu* 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 405 

tuous and pious lady, in a vicious age and court. If she had any of the 
vanities, she had certainly none of the vices of it. The duke and she lived 
lovingly and decently together ; she patiently bearing vrith those faults in 
him which she could not remedy. She survived him many years, and 
died near St. James's, at Westminster, and was buried in the vault of the 
family of Villiers, in Henry VII.'s chapel, anno 1705, setat. 66." — Brian 
Fairfaxes Life of the Duke of Buckingham, 4to. 1758, p. 39. She was 
married at Nun Appleton, September 6, 1657. In the Memoirs of the 
English Court, by Madame Dunois, p. 11, it is said, "The Duchess of 
Buckingham has merit and virtue ; she is brown and lean, but had she 
been the most beautiful and charming of her sex, the being his wife would 
have been sufficient alone to have inspired him with a dishke. Notwith- 
standing she knew he was always intriguing, yet she never spoke of it, and 
had complaisance enough to entertain his mistresses, and even to lodge 
them in her house ; all which she suffered because she loved him." In 
some manuscript notes in Oldys's copy of Langbaine, by a gentleman 
still living, we are told that the old Lady Viscountess de Longueville, 
grandmother to the Earl of Sassex, who died in 1763, aged near 100, used 
to tell many little anecdotes of Charles II. 's queen, whom she described 
as a little ungraceful woman, so short-legged, that when she stood upon 
her feet, you would have thought she was on her knees, and yet so long 
waisted, that when she sat down she appeared a well- sized woman. She 
also described the Duchess of Buckingham, to whom she was related, as 
much such another in person as the queen ; a little round crumpled 
woman, very fond of finery. She remembered paying her a visit when 
she (the duchess) was in mourning, at which time she found her lying on 
a sofa, with a kind of loose robe over her, all edged or iaced with gold. 
This circumstance gives credit to Fairfax's observation above, that if she 
had any of the vanities, she had certainly none of the vices of the court. 

Note 161, Page 300. 

It would he advisable for her to try the ivarm baths at Bristol. 
I believe that Bath, not Bristol, is the place intended by the author. 
Queen Katharine's visit to the former place was earlier than to Tunbridge, 
being about the latter end of September, 1663.- — See Wood''s Descrijjtion 
of Bath, vol. i. p. 217. I do not find she ever was at Bristol, but at the 
time mentioned in the following extract : 

1663. Sir John Knight, mayor. John Broadway, Richard Stremer, 
sheriffs. 

" The 5th of September, the king and queen, with James, Duke of 
York, and his duchess, and Prince Rupert, &c., came to Bristol, and 
ivere splendidly received and entertained by the mayor, at a dinner pro- 
vided on the occasion. They returned to Bath at four o'clock. 150 
pieces of ordnance were discharged in the Marsh, at three distinct times." 
— Barret fs History, Sfc, of Bristol, p. 692. 



•iOG NOTES AND 

Note 1C2, Page 305. 
Campaign in Guinea. 
This expedition was intended to have taken place in 1664. A full 
account of it, and how it came to be laid aside, may be seen in the Con- 
tinuation of Clarendon' s Life, p. 225. 

Note 163, Page 306. 
The old Earl of Carlingford, 
Sir Theobald Taafe, the second Viscount Taafe, created Earl of Carling- 
ford, in the county of Louth, by privy seal, 17th June, 1661, and by 
patent, 26th June, 1662. He died 31st December, 1677. 

Note 164, Page 308. 
That mad fellow Crofts. 
William, Baron of Crofts, groom of the stole, and gentleman of the 
bed-chamber to the Duke of York ; captain of a regiment of guards of the 
queen-mother, gentleman of the bed-chamber to the king, and ambassador 
to Poland. He had been sent to France by the Duke of York, to con- 
gratulate Lewis XIV. on the birth of the dauphin. — See Biog, Brit, old 
ed. vol. iv. p. 2738, and Continuation of Clarendon, p. 294. 

Note 165, Page 309. 
She saw young Churchill, 

Afterwards the celebrated Duke of Marlborough. He was born mid- 
summer-day, 1650, and died June 16, 1722. Bishop Burnet takes notice 
of the discovery of this intrigue. "The Duchess of Cleveland, finding 
that she had lost the king, abandoned herself to great disorders : one of 
v^hich, by the artifice of the Duke of Buckingham, was discovered by the 
king in person, the party concerned leaping out of the window." — History 
of his own Times, vol. i. p. 370. This was in 1668. A very particular 
account of this intrigue is to be seen in the Atalaniis of Mrs. Manley, 
vol. i. p. 30. The same writer, who had lived as companion to the 
Duchess of Cleveland, says, in the account of her own life, that she was 
an eye-witness when the duke, who had received thousands from the 
duchess, refused the common civility of lending her twenty guineas at 
basset. — The History of Rivella, 4th ed. 1725, p. 33. Lord Chester- 
field's character of this nobleman is too remarkable to be omitted. 

** Of all the men that ever 1 knew in my life (and I knew him extremely 
well), the late Duke of Marlborough possessed the graces in the highest 
degree, not to say engrossed them ; and indeed he got the most by them ; 
for I will venture (contrary to the custom of profound historians, who 
always assign deep causes to great events) to ascribe the better half of the 
Duke of Marlborough's greatness and riches to those graces. He was 
eminently illiterate, wrote bad English, and spelled it still worse. He had 
no share of what is commonly called parts ; that is, he had no brightness, 
nothing shining in his genius. He had, most undoubtedly, an excellent 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 407 

good plain understanding, with sound judgment. But these alone would 
probably have raised him but something higher than they found him, 
which was page to King James II.'s queen. There the graces protected 
and promoted him ; for while he was an ensign of the guards, the Duchess 
of Cleveland, then favourite mistress to King Charles II., struck by those 
very graces, gave him five thousand pounds ; with which he immediately 
bought an annuity for his life, of five hundred pounds a year, of my grand- 
father, Halifax ; which was the foundation of his subsequent fortune. 
His figure was beautiful ; but his manner was irresistible by either man 
or woman. It was by this engaging, graceful manner, that he was enabled, 
during all his wars, to connect the various and jarring powers of the 
grand alliance, and to carry them on to the main object of the war, not- 
withstanding their private and separate views, jealousies, and wrong- 
headednesses. Whatever court he went to (and he was often obliged to 
go himself to some resty and refractory ones), he as constantly prevailed, 
and brought them into his measures. The pensionary Heinsius, a vene- 
rable old minister, grown grey in business, and who had governed the 
republic of the United Provinces for more than forty years, was absolutely 
governed by the Duke of Marlborough, as that republic feels to this day. 
He was always cool ; and nobody ever observed the least variation in his 
countenance. He could refuse more gracefully than other people could 
grant ; and those who went away from him the most dissatisfied, as to the 
substance of their business, were yet personally charmed with him, and, 
in some degree, comforted by his manner. With all his gracefulness, no 
man living was more conscious of his situation or maintained his dignity 
hetter."— Chest. Letters, letter 136. 

Note 166, Page 310. 
Nell Gwyn, the actress. 
On this passage, the first translator of this work, Mr. Boyer, has the 
following note : *' The author of these memoirs is somewhat mistaken in 
this particular ; for Nell Gwyn was my Lord Dorset^s mistress, before 
the king fell in love with her ; and I was told by the late Mr. Dryden, 
that the king having a mind to get her from his lordship, sent him upon 
a sleeveless errand to France. However, it is not improbable that Nell 
was afterwards kind to her first lover.'' [See Note 110.] Of the 
early part of Nell's life, little is known but what may be collected from 
the lampoons of the times ; in which it is said that she was born in a 
night-cellar, sold fish about the streets, rambled from tavern to tavern, 
entertaining the company after dinner and supper with songs (her voice 
being very agreeable) ; was next taken into the house of Madame Ross, 
a noted courtesan ; and was afterwards admitted into the theatre, 
where she became the mistress of both Hart and Lacey, the celebrated 
actors. Other accounts say, she was born in a cellar in the Coal-yard m 
Drury-lane ; and that she was first taken notice of when selling oranges 
in the play-house. She belonged to the king's company at Drury-lane, 
and, according to Downes, was received as an actress a few years after that 
house was opened, in 1663. The first notice I find of her is in the year 



408 KOTES AND 

1068, when she performed in Dryden's play of Secret Love; after which 
she may be traced every year until 1072, when I conjecture she quitted 
the stage. [Pepys mentions her as early as April 3rd, 1065, when he 
styles her "pretty, witty Nell." In his Diary, March 2nd, 1600-7, he 
says : *' After dinner with my wife to the King's house to see * The Maiden 
Queen,' a new play of Dryden's, mightily commended for the regularity 
of it, and the strain and wit : and the truth is, there is a comical part done 
by Nell, which is Florimell, that I never can hope to see the like done 
again by man or woman. So great performance of a comical part was 
never, I believe, in the world before as Nell do this, both as a mad girl, 
then most and best of all when she comes in like a young gallant ; and 
hath the motions and carriage of a spark the most that ever I saw any man 
have. It makes me, I confess, admire." And again, May 1st, 1007: 
*' To Westminster, and saw pretty Nelly standing at her lodgings' door in 
Drury-lane, in her smock sleeves and bodice, looking upon one : she 
seemed a mighty pretty creature."] Her forte appears tb have been 
comedy. [Pepys says in his Diary, August 22nd, 1007, ** To the King's 
playhouse, w^here I find Nell come again, which I am glad of; but was 
most infinitely displeased with her being put to act the emperor's daugh- 
ter, which she does most basely."] In an epilogue to Tyrannic Love, 
spoken by her, she says, .j, 

I walk, because I die 



Out of my calling in a tragedy. 

And from the same authority it may be collected that her person was small, 
and she was negligent in her dress. Her son, the Duke of St. Albans, 
was born before she left the stage, viz. May 8, 1070. Bishop Burnet 
speaks of her in these terms: — ** Gwyn, the indiscreetest and wildest 
creature that ever was in a court, continued, to the end of the king's life, 
in great favour, and was maintained at a vast expense. The Duke of 
Buckingham told me, that when she was first brought to the king, she 
asked only 500 pounds a year, and the king refused it. But when he 
told me this, about four years after, he said she had got of the king above 
sixty thousand pounds. [The editor has seen her signature to a receipt 
dated Nov. 20th, 1082, for 250/., being a quarter of a year's pension. 
Also a banker's order for payment of a similar sum, dated Oct. 15th, 1083, 
signed by Lord Rochester, Sir Edw. Dering, Sir Stephen Fox, &c.] She 
acted all persons in so lively a manner, and was such a constant diversion 
to the king, that even a new mistress could not drive her away ; but, after 
all, he never treated her with the decencies of a mistress." — History of 
his orvn Times, vol. i. p. 309. The same author notices the king's atten- 
tion to her on his death- bed. Gibber, who was dissatisfied with the bishop's 
account of Nell, says, — *' If we consider her in all the disadvantages of 
her rank and education, she does not appear to have had any criminal 
errors, more remarkable than her sex's frailty, to answer for ; and if the 
same author, in his latter end of that prince's life, seems to reproach his 
memory with too kind a concern for her support, we may allow it becomes 
a bishop to have had no eyes or taste for the frivolous charms or playful 
badinage of a king's mistress. Yet, if the common fame of her may be 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 409 

believed, which, in my memory, was not doubted, she had less to be laid 
to her charge than any other of those ladies who were in the same state of 
preferment : she never meddled in matters of serious moment, or was the 
tool of working politicians ; never broke into those amorous infidelities 
which others, in that grave author, are accused of; but was as visibly dis- 
tinguished by her particular personal inclination to the king, as her rivals 
were by their titles and grandeur. '^ — Cihber's Apology^ 8vo., p. 450. 
One of Madame Sevigne's letters exhibits no bad portrait of Mrs. Gwyn. 
— '' Mademoiselle de K (Kerouaille, afterwards Duchess of Ports- 
mouth) has not been disappointed in any thing she proposed. She desired 
to be mistress to the king, and she is so : he lodges with her almost every 
night, in the face of all the court : she has had a son, who has been ac- 
knowledged, and presented with two duchies : she amasses treasure, and 
makes herself feared and respected by as many as she can. But she did 
not foresee that she should find a young actress in her way, whom the 
king dotes on ; and she has it not in her power to withdraw him from her. 
He divides his care, his time, and his health, between these two. The ac- 
tress is as haughty as Mademoiselle : she insults her, she makes grimaces 
i}X her, she attacks her, she frequently steals the king from her, and boasts 
whenever he gives her the preference. She is young, indiscreet, confident, 
wild, and of an agreeable humour : she sings, she dances, she acts her part 
with a good grace. She has a son by the king, and hopes to have him 
acknowledged. As to Mademoiselle, she reasons thus : This duchess, says 
she, pretends to be a person of quality : she says she is related to the best 
families in France : whenever any person of distinction dies, she puts her- 
self in mourning. — If she be a lady of such quality, why does she demean 
herself to be a courtesan ? She ought to die with shame. As for me, it 
is my profession : I do not pretend to any thing better. He has a son by 
me : I pretend that he ought to acknowledge him ; and I am well assured 
he will ; for he loves me as well as Mademoiselle. This creature gets the 
upper hand, and discountenances and embarrasses the duchess extremely." 
— Letter 92. Mr. Pennant says, '' — she resided at her house, in what 
was then called Pall-Mail. It is the first good one on the left hand of St. 
James's square, as we enter from Pali-Mall. The back-room on the 
ground floor was (within memory) entirely of looking-glass, as was said to 
have been the ceiling. Over the chimney was her picture ; and that of 
her sister was in a third room." — London,^. 101. At this house she 
died, in the year 1691, and was pompously interred in the parish church 
of St. Martin's in the Fields ; Dr. Tennison, then vicar, and afterv/ards 
archbishop of Canterbury, preaching her funeral sermon. This sermon, 
we learn, was shortly afterwards brought forward at court by Lord Jersey, 
to impede the doctor's preferment ; but queen Mary having heard the ob- 
jection, answered — *' What then ?" in a sort of discomposure to which she 
was but little subject ; '' I have heard as much : this is a sign that that 
poor unfortunate woman died penitent ; for, if I can read a man's heart 
through his looks, had not she made a pious and Christian end, the doctor 
could never have been induced to speak well of her." — Life of Dr. Tho- 
•mas Te7inison, p. 20. Cibber also says, he had been unquestionably in- 



410 NOTES AND 

formed that our fair offender's repentance appeared in all the contrite 
symptoms of a Christian sincerity. — Cibber^s Apology, p. 451. 

[The following anecdotes which are still preserved of the merry, open- 
hearted Nell, will be found highly illustrative of her lively wit and generous 
disposition. They are taken from various sources, including the Diaries 
of Evelyn and Pepys ; Granger's Biography and Letters ; Colley Gibber's 
Life ; Gentleman's Magazine ; Mrs. Jameson ; Jesse ; &c. &c. 

** Mrs. Pierce tells me that the two Marshalls at the king's house, are 
Stephen IMarshall's the great Presbyterian's daughters : and that Nelly 
and Beck Marshall falling out the other day, the latter called the other my 
Lord Buckhurst's mistress. Nell answered her, * I was but one man's 
mistress, though I was brought up in a brothel, to fill strong water to the 
gentlemen : and you are a mistress to three or four, though a presbyter's 
praying daughter.' " 

** Boman, when a youth and famous for his voice, was appointed to sing 
some part in a concert, at the private lodgings of Mrs. Gwynn ; at which 
were only present the king, the Duke of York, and one or two more, who 
were usually admitted upon those detached parties of pleasure. When the 
performance was ended, the king expressed himself highly pleased, and 
gave it extraordinary commendations : * Then, Sir,' said the lady, * to shew 
you don't speak like a courtier, I hope you will make the performers a 
handsome present.' The king said he had no money about him, and asked 
the duke if he had any } To which the duke replied, * I believe, Sir, not 
above a guinea or two.' Upon which the laughing lady, turning to the 
people about her, and droUy mimicking the king's tone and common ex- 
pression, cried, * Odd's fish, what company am I got into !' ^' 

*' Nell Gwynn was one day passing through the streets of Oxford, in 
her coach, when the mob mistaking her for her rival, the Duchess of 
Portsmouth, commenced hooting and loading her with every opprobrious 
epithet. Putting her head out of the coach window, * Good people,' she 
said, smiling, * you are mistaken ; I am the Protestant whore.' " 

*' Once as she was driving up Ludgate-hill in a superb coach, some 
bailiffs were hurrying a clergyman to prison ; she stopped, sent for the per- 
sons whom the clergyman named as attestators to his character, and finding 
the account a just subject for pity, paid his debt instantly, and procured 
him a preferment." 

** An expedient adopted by the light-hearted actress, to procure the ad- 
vancement of her young son to the same rank which had been conferred by 
Charles on his other natural children, is amusing enough. The king hap- 
p.^ned to be in her apartments, when the boy was engaged in some childish 
sport. • Come here, you little bastard !' — was the free-spoken summons. 
Charles, to whose ears the term sounded somewhat harsh, blamed her, 
in his good-natured way, for the expression. ' Indeed,' she said, demurely, 
* I am very sorry, but I have no other name to give him, poor boy !' A 
few days afterwards, this nameless young gentleman was created Baron of 
Heddington and Earl of Burford." 

** Nelly was highly favoured by Dryden. For many years he gave her 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 411 

the most snowy and fantastic parts in his comedies. It looks as if he 
played her at the monarch a considerable time ; and he wrote on pur- 
pose for her a whimsical and spirited prologue, prefixed, I think, to 
Aurengzebe. At the rival theatre (viz. the Duke's, under Killegrew's 
patent), NoJces had appeared in a hat larger than PistoVs, which gave 
the town wonderful delight, and supported a bad play by its pure 
effect. Dryden, piqued at this, caused a hat to be made the circum- 
ference of a hinder coach- wheel, and as Nelly v^^as low of stature, and 
what the French call mignonne et piquante, he made her speak under the 
umbrella of that hat, the brims thereof being spread out horizontally to 
their full extension. The whole theatre was in a convulson of applause ; 
nay, the very actors giggled, a circumstance none had observed before. 
Judge, therefore, what a condition ' the merriest prince alive ' was in at 
such a conjuncture. It was beyond * odds ' and ' odsfish ;' for he wanted 
little of being suffocated with laughter.'' 

" She was the most popular of all the king's mistresses, and most 
acceptable to the nation. The king having made a handsome present of 
plate to the Duchess of Portsmouth, a large concourse of people gathered 
round the goldsmith's shop, and loudly hooted at the duchess, wishing 
the silver was melted and poured down her throat, and saying that it was 
a thousand pities his majesty had not bestowed this bounty on Madam 
Ellen." 

'' Before Nelly became the mistress of Charles II., she was under the 
protection of two others of the name of Charles. She accordingly used 
to speak of him as her Charles III. Etherege says, 

' When he was dumpish, she would still be jocund, 
And chuck the royal chin of Charles the Second.' " 

'* The house in which Nell Gwynn lived was a freehold, and granted to 
her by a long lease by Charles II. Upon her discovering it to be only a 
lease under the crown, she returned him the lease and conveyance, saying 
she had always conveyed free under the crown, and always would; and 
would not accept it till it was conveyed free to her by an act of parlia- 
ment, made, on and for that purpose. Upon NeUy's death it was sold, 
and has been conveyed free ever since." 

'' Before her acquaintance with the king she is by some said to have 
been mistress to a brother of Lady Castlemaine, who studiously concealeci 
her from Charles. One day, however, in spite of his caution, his majesty 
saw her, and that very night possessed her. Her lover carried her to the 
play, at a time when he had not the least suspicion of his majesty's being 
there ; but as that monarch had an aversion to his robes of royalty, and 
was incumbered with the dignity of his state, he chose frequently to 
throw off the load of kingship, and consider himself as a private gentle- 
man. Upon this occasion he came to the play incog. , and sat in the 
next box to Nelly and her lover. As soon as the play was finished, his 
majesty, with the duke of York, the young nobleman, and Nell, retired 
to a tavern together, where they regaled themselves over a bottle ; and 
the king shewed such civilities to Nell, that she began to understand the 
meaning of his gallantry. The tavern keeper was entirely ignorant of the 



412 NOTES AND 

quality of the company ; and it was remarkable, that when the reckoning 
came to be paid, his majesty, upon searching his pockets, found that he 
had not money enough about him to discharge it, and asked the sum of 
his brother, who was in the same situation : upon which Nell observed, 
that she had got into the poorest company that she ever was in at a 
tavern. The reckoning was paid by the young nobleman, who that 
night lost both his money and mistress/' 

" * Oh Nell,' said Charles to her one day, * what shall I do to please 
the people of England ? lam torn to pieces by their clamours.' * If 
it please your majesty,' she answered, * there is but one way left.' * "What 
is that?' said the king. 'Dismiss your ladies, may it please your 
majesty, and mind your business.' " 

*' One day she was driving in her coach to Whitehall, when a dispute 
arose between her coachman and another who was driving a countess, 
who in the midst of the discussion told his rival, that he himself drove a 
countess, whilst his lady was neither more nor less than a whore. The 
indignant Jehu jumped from his seat, and administered to the offender a 
severe beating. When Nell learnt from him the cause of the quarrel, 
she told him to * go to, and never to risk his carcase again but in defence of 
truth.' " 

Evelyn, who, like Dr. Burnet, was highly scandalized at the king's 
fondness for his mistresses, thus notices her in his Diary, March 1st, 
1671 : — ** I walked through St. James's Park to the gardens, where 1 
both saw and heard a very familiar discourse between [the king] and Mrs. 
Nellie, as they called an impudent comedian, she looking out of her 
garden on a terrace at the top of the wall, and [the king] standing on the 
green walk under it. I was heartily sorry at this scene." 

Charles loved her to the last, and she is said to be the only one of his 
mistresses who was faithful to him. His last words were, '* Let not poor 
Nelly starve." According to a writer in the Gent.'s Magazine, *' she 
left a handsome sum yearly to St. Martin's church, on condition, that on 
every Thursday evening in the year, there should be six men employed, 
for the space of one hour, in ringing, for which they were to have a 
roasted shoulder of mutton and ten shillings for beer. She, however, is 
more justly remembered for her exertions in behalf of Chelsea Hospital, 
which would never have been completed, at least not in the reign of 
Charles, but for her persevering and benevolent enthusiasm."] < 

Note 1G7, Page 311. 
Miss Davis, 
Mrs. Mary Davis was an actress belonging to the duke's theatre. She 
was, according to Downes, one of the four female performers who boarded 
m Sir William Davenant's own hous,., and was on the stage as early as 
16G4, her name being to be seen in "The Stepmother,'^ acted in that 
year. She performed the character of Celia^ in the " Rivals," altered 
by Davenant from the '* Two Noble Kinsmen" of Fletcher and Shak- 
speare, in 1668 ; and, in singing several wild and mad songs, so charmed 
his majesty, that she was from that time received into his favour, and had 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 413 

by him a daughter, Mary Tudor, born October, 1G73 ; married in Au- 
gust, 1687, to Francis Ratcliffe, Earl of Derwentwater. Burnet says, 
Miss Davis did not keep her hold on the king long ; which may be 
doubted, as her daughter was born four years after she was first noticed 
by his majesty. 

[Pepys thus speaks of her in his Diary, March 7th, 1666-7. — '' To 
the duke's playhouse, where little Miss Davis did dance a jig after the 
end of the play, in boy's clothes ; and the truth is, there is no compa- 
rison between Nell's dancing the other day at the king's house in boy's 
clothes and this, this being infinitely beyond the other." Jan. 11th, 
1667-8. " Knipp told me hov/ Miss Davis is for certain going away from 
the duke's house, the king being in love with her ; and a house is taking 
for her and furnishing ; and she hath a ring given her already, wortli 
600/." Jan. 14th. " Miss Davis is now the most impertinent slut in the 
world ; and the more now the king do shew her countenance ; and is 
reckoned his mistress even to the scorn of the whole world ; the king 
gazing on her, and my Lady Castlemaine being melancholy and cut of 
humour, all the play not smiling once. It seems she is a bastard of 
Colonel Howard, my Lord Berkshire, and he hath got her for the king : 
but Pierce says that she is a most homely jade as ever he saw, though she 
dances beyond any thing in the world." A story is told that Lady Castle- 
maine (Granger says it vv^as Nell Gwynn) administered jalap at supper to 
Mary Davis on the first night of her introduction to Charles, the object 
of which need not be commented upon. It is sufficient (says Granger) 
to hint at the violence of the operation, and its disastrous effects."] 

Note 168, Page 312. 
ChiffincJi. 

The name of this person occurs very often in the secret history of this 
reign. Wood, in enumerating the king's supper companions, says, they 
m.eet '* either in the lodgings of Lodovisa, Duchess of Portsmouth, or in 
those of Cheffing (Chiffinch), near the back-stairs, or in the apart- 
ment of Eleanor Quin (Gwyn), or in that of Baptist May ; but he losing 

his credit, Cheffing had the greatest trust among them." — Athence 

Oxon. vol. ii. 1038. So great was the confidence reposed in him, that 
he was the receiver of the secret pensions paid by the court of France 
tc the King of England. — See the Luke of Leeds's Letters, 1710, p. 9, 
17, 33. 

Chiffinch' s more important duties are intimated in the beginning 
of a satirical poem of the time entitled " Sir Edmondbury Godfrey's 
Ghost." 

'' It happen'd, in the twilight of the day, 
As England's monarch in his closet lay, 
And Chiffinch stepp'd tc fetch the female prey, 
The bloody shape of Godfrey did appear," &c. 

[His character is V7ell drawn in Sir Walter Scott's novel of " Peveril of 
the Peak."] 



414 NOTES AND 

Note 169, Page 3M. 
Mis's Stewart having a little recovered^ Sec. 

See Bishop Burnet's account of Miss Stewart's marriage, in his History 
of his own Times, vol. i. p. 353. 

[Pepys thus relates the marriage in his Diary, April 26th, 1667 : — 
** Mr. Evelyn told me the whole story of Mrs. Stewart's going away from 
court, he knowing her well ; and believes her, up to her leaving the court, 
to be as virtuous as any woman in the world ; and told me, from a lord, 
that she told it to but yesterday with her own mouth, and a sober man, 
that when the Duke of Richmond did make love to her, she did ask the 
king, and he did the like also ; and that the king did not deny it, and told 
this lord that she was come to that pass, as to resolve to have married any 
gentleman of 1,500/. a year that w^ould have had her in honour: for it 
was come to that pass, that she could not longer continue at court without 
prostituting herself to the king, v/hom she had so long kept off, though he 
had liberty more than any other had, or he ought to have, as to dalliance. 
She told this lord, that she had reflected upon the occasion she had given 
to the world, to think her a bad woman, and that she had no way but to 
marry and leave the court, rather in this way of discontent than otherwise, 
that the world might see that she sought not any thing but her honour ; 
and that she will never come to live at court, more than when she comes 
to kiss the queen her mistress's hand ; and hopes, though she hath little 
reason to hope, she can please her lord so as to reclaim him, that they 
may yet live comfortably in the country on his estate. She told this lord 
that all the jewels she ever had given her at court, or any other presents 
(more than the king's allowance of 700/. per annum out of the privy-purse 
for her clothes), were at her first coming, the king did give her a necklace 
of pearl, of about 1,100/. ; and afterwards, about seven months since, 
when the king had hopes to have obtained some courtesy of her, the king 
did give her some jewels, I have forgot what, and I think a pair of pen- 
dants. The Duke of York, being once her Valentine, did give her a jewel 
of about 800/. ; and my Lord Mandeville, her Valentine this year, a ring 
of about 300/. ; and the King of France would have had her mother (w^ho, 
he says, is one of the most cunning women in the world), to have let her 
stay in France, saying that he loved her not as a mistress, but as one that 
he could marry as well as any lady in France ; and that, if she might stay, 
for the honour of his court, he would take care that she should not repent. 
But her mother, by command of the queen-mother, thought rather to 
bring her into England ; and the King of France did give her a jewel ; so 
that Evelyn believes she may be worth in jewels about 6,000/., and that 
this is all she hath in the world ; and a worthy woman ; and in this hath 
done as great an act of honour as ever was done by woman. That now 
the Countess Castlemaine do carry all before her ; and among other 
arguments to prove Mrs. Stewart to have been honest to the last, he says 
that the king's keeping in still with my Lady Castlemaine do shew it ; for 
he never was known to keep two mistresses in his life, and would never 
have Kept to her, had he prevailed any thing with Mrs. Stewart. She is 
gone yesterday with her lord to Cobham."] 



ILLUSTRATIONS. . 415 

Note 170, Page 317. 

llie expedition of Gigeri. 
Gigeri is about forty leagues from Algiers. Till the year 1644 the 
French had a factory there ; but then attempting to build a fort on the 
seacoast, to be a check upon the Arabs, they came down from the moun- 
tains, beat the French out of Gigeri, and demolished their fort. Sir 
Richard Fanshaw, in a letter to the deputy-governor of Tangier, dated 
2nd of December, 1664, N.S. says, ** We have certain inteUigence that 
the French have lost Gigheria, with all they had there, and their fleet 
come back, with the loss of one considerable ship upon the rocks near 
Marselles." — Fanshaw^s Letters, vol. i. p. 347. 

Note 171, Page 319. 
An expedition to Guinea, 
This expedition was intended to have taken place in 1664. A full 
account of it, and how it came to be laid aside, may be seen in the Co»- 
tinuation of Clarendon's Life, p. 225. 

Note 172, Page 319. 
Ovid's Epistles. 
This is the translation of Ovid's epistles, published by Mr. Dryden. 
The second edition of it was printed in 1681. 

Note 173, Page 320. 
A silly country girl. 
Miss Gibbs, daughter of a gentleman in the county of Cambridge. 

Note 174, Page 320. 
A melancholy heiress. 
Elizabeth, daughter of John Mallet, of Enmere, in the county of 
Somerset. 

Note 175, Page 320. 
The languishing Boynton. 
After the deaths of Miss Boynton and of George Hamilton, Talbot 
married Miss Jennings, and became afterwards Duke of Tyrconnel. 

Note 176, Page 320. 
Was blessed with the possession of Miss Hamilton. 

*' The famous Count Grammont was thought to be the original of The 
Forced Marriage. This nobleman, during his stay at the court of Eng- 
land, had made love to Miss Hamilton, but was coming away for France, 
R^ithout bringing matters to a proper conclusion. The young lady's 



41 G NOTES AND 

brothers pursued him, and came up with him near Dover, in order to 
exchange some pistol-shot with him. They called out, * Count Gram- 
mont, have you forgot nothing at London ? ' ' Excuse me,' answered the 
count, guessing their errand, * I forgot to marry your sister ; so lead on, 
and let us finish that affair.' By the pleasantry of the answer, this was 
the same Grammont who commanded at the siege of a place, the governor 
of whii^h capitulated after a short defence, and obtained an easy capitula- 
tion. The governor then said to Monsieur Grammont, * I'll tell you a 
secret — that the reason of my capitulation was, because 1 was in want of 
powder.' INIonsieur replied, * And secret for secret — the reason of my 
granting you such an easy capitulation was, because I was in want of 
ball.' ''^Biog. Gallica, \oL i. p. 202. 

Count Grammont and his lady left England in 1669. King Charles, in 
a letter to his sister, the Duchess of Orleans, dated 24th October, in that 
year, says, ** I writt to you yesterday, by the Compte de Grammont, but 
I beleeve this letter will come sooner to your handes ; for he goes by the 
way of Diep, v»'ith his wife and family ; and now that 1 have named her, 
I cannot chuse but againe desire you to be kinde to her ; for, besides the 
raeritt her family has on both sides, she is as good a creature as ever lived. 
I beleeve she will passe for a handsome woman in France, though she has 
not yett, since her lying-inn, recovered that good shape she had before, 
and I am afraide never will." — Dalrymple'' s Memoirs^ vol. ii. p. 26. 

**The Count de Grammont fell dangerously ill in the year 1696; of 

which the king (Lewis XIV.) being informed, and knowing, besides, that 

he was inclined to libertinism, he was pleased to send the Marquis of 

Dangeau to see how he did, and to advise him to think of God. Hereupon 

Count de Grammont, turning towards his wife, who had ever been a very 

devout lady, told her, * Countess, if you don't look to it, Dangeau will 

juggle you out of my conversion.' Madame de I'Enclos having afterwards 

written to M. de St. Evremond that Count de Grammont was recovered, 

and turned devout, — * I have learned,' answered he to her, * with a great 

deal of pleasure, that Count de Grammont has recovered his former health, 

and acquired a new devotion. Hitherto I have been contented with being 

a plain honest man ; but I must do something more ; and I only wait for 

your example to become a devotee. You live in a country where people 

have wonderful advantages of saving their souls ; there, vice is almost as 

opposite to the mode as to virtue ; sinning passes for ill breeding, and 

shocks decency and good manners, as much as religion. Formerly it was 

enough to be wicked ; now one must be a scoundrel withal, to be damned 

in France. They who have not regard enough for another life, are led to 

salvation by the consideration and duties of this.' — ' But there is enough 

upon a subject in which the conversion of the Count de Grammont has 

engaged me. I believe it to be sincere and honest. It well becomes a 

man who is not young, to forget he has been so.' " — Life of St. Evremondy 

by Des Marzeaux, p. 130 ; and St. EvremoncV s Works, vol. ii. p. 431. 

It appears that a report had been spread, that our hero was dead. St. 

Evremond, in a letter to de I'Enclos, says, *' They talk here as if the 

Count de Grammont v.-as dead, which touches me with a very sensible 

grief." — St. Evremond' s WorliHi vol. iii. p. 39. And the same lady, in 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 417 

her answer, says, *' Madame de Coulange has undertaken to make your 
compliments to the Count de Grammont, by the Countess de Grammont. 
He is so young, that I think him as light as when he hated sick people, 
and loved them after they had recovered their health/' — St, Evremond's 
Works, p. 59. 

At length Count de Grammont, after along life, died, the 10th January, 
1 707, at the age of eighty-Sfix years. 

See a letter from St. Evremond to Count de Grammont on the death of 
his brother, Count de Toulongeon. — St. .Evremond' s JVorks, vol. ii. 



PERSONAL HISTORY OF CHARLES IL 

Cowpiled from various authentic sources. 



Prince Charles, the second son of Charles I. and 
Henrietta Maria of France, was born at St. James's, May 
29tli, 1630, at one o'clock in the afternoon. According- to 
Rushworth, and other writers of the period, a star appeared 
at the time of his birtli ; upon which Fuller remarks : " To 
behold this babe, Heaven itself seemed to open one eye more 
than ordinary." Perrinchief, in a similar strain, says, that 
"Heaven seemed concerned in the exultation of the people, 
kindling another fire more than ordinary, making a star 
to be seen the same day at noon, from which most men 
presaged that the prince should be of high undertakings, and 
of no common glory among kings, which hath since been 
confirmed by his miraculous preservation ; and heaven seemed 
to conduct him to the throne." Lilly (the astrologer), how- 
ever, dispels the miracle by stating that the light or star was 
no other than the planet Yenus, which not unfrequently pre- 
sents itself in the open day ; though in Charles's case such 
an appearance was certainly a singular coincidence, and at 
least typical of the subsequent libertinism of his career. 
His elder brother, born the year previously, having died on 
the day of his birth, Charles was declared Prince of Wales ; 
and on the completion of his eighth year, he was knighted, 
received the order of the garter, and was installed with the 
usual ceremonies at Windsor. 

Of his childhood we learn but little. In a " Seeret History," 
published after his death, we are told that '' when very 
young, he had a strange and unaccountable fondness for a 
wooden billet, without which in his arms he would never go 

2 E 2 



420 in:ii60SAL iiistoky of j 

abroiid, or lie down in his Led ; from which the more observ- 
ing sort of people gathered, that when he came to years of 1 
maturity, either oppressors or blockheads would be his 
greatest favourites ; or else, that when he came to reign 
he vrould either be like Jupiter s log, for everybody to 
deride and contemn ; or that he would rather choose to 
command his peoj^le with a club, than rule them with a 
sword/' An amusing correspondence is also preserved by 
Ellis, from which we learn that the young prince had 
exhibited a most rebellious aversion to physic, resolutely 
declining to take it at all ; the Earl of Newcastle (who had 
been appointed his governor or guardian in 1638) was obliged 
to apply to his mother, Henrietta Maria, and the letter is yet 
extant in which she endeavoured to persuade her refractory 
son. It appears that he was afterwards won over ; and his 
early love for the ridiculous is exemplified in the following 
childish note, which he wrote to his governor in his own 
hand, apparently in 1638, when he was only eight years of 
age :— 

" My Lord, 

" I would not have you take too much physic, for it doth 
always make me worse, and I think it will do the like with 
you. I ride every day, and am ready to follow any other 
directions from you. Make haste to return to him that loves 
you. 

" To my Lord of Newcastle. " Charles, P." 

During his early years he had for his tutor Brian Duppa, 
an ecclesiastic who was of an easy temper, and^jiimch beloved 
by Charles I., but, according to I3urnet, in no w^ fit for his 
post. The celebrated Hnmpden was once proposed,, but, 
perhaps unfortunately for the young prin(!e, was not en- 
;raged. His governors, successively the Earls of Newcastle, 
Hertford, and Berkshire, who had the care of his education, 
appear to have alTorded him but few helps towards Ins im- 
];rovement ; and with the exception of Mr. Ilobbes, who was 
appointed to instruct him in mathematics, his education was 
directed by jicrsons no way competent for the task. 

Charles, at a very early age, v/as a witness of the miseries 
of his father, and partook witii him in the troubles of iho 



CIIAilLES TT. 421 

period. In 1642, wben he was only twelve years old. the 
king made him captain of a troop of horse, and he was shortly 
afterwards present at the battle of Edge-hill. During the 
action, the prince and his brother, the Duke of York, were 
confided to the care of the celebrated Dr. William Harvey 
(the discoverer of the circulation of the blood). According 
to Aubrey, the studious physician withdrew with them under 
the shelter of a hedge, and, regardless of the din of battle, 
took a book from his pocket, and became lost in meditation ; 
a cannon-ball, however, striking the earth near them, soon 
made the party shift to safer quarters. 

In March, 1645, the young Prince of "Wales was created, 
at Oxford, generalissimo of all his father's forces in England; 
and a council being appointed to direct him by their advice, 
he was despatched into the west ; though neither council nor 
army seem to have executed any thing of consequence. Here 
he found Sir Thomas Fairfax, at the head of the parlia- 
mentary troops, everywhere victorious ; and the king, his 
father, after placing in the hands of the queen the absolute 
and full power of the prince's education in all things except 
religion, commanded him, in case he was closely pressed, to 
escape to France, where his mother was then residing. The 
necessity of flight was soon apparent ; accordingly, the young- 
prince left Pendennis, accompanied by his council, and pro- 
ceeded to the islands of Scilly, which were still devoted to the 
royal cause. Here he remained about ^ix weeks, during 
which period he received an invitation from Parliament to 
return, for at that time they not only wished well to him, 
but were desirous of a reconciliation with the king, his 
father. The prince, however, was not to be prevailed upon ; 
and leaving Scilly in September, 1646, went to Jersey, and 
thence to France, where he joined the queen, his mother, 
and it is said, during his brief stay there, met the accustomed 
treatment of an exiled and dependent prince. Clarendon adds, 
" He was governed by his mother with such strictness, that 
though his highness was above the age of seventeen, he 
never put his hat on before the queen, or had above ten 
pistoles in his pocket.'' 

In 1648 several commotions broke out in England and 
Wales, and the Duke of Hamilton, having raised an army 



422 PCUSONAL lILSTOliY OP 

of Scots for the service of the king, and prepared to invade 
EiigLand, it was thouglit advisable that the prince shouhl 
hold himself in readiness to take the command. Ho accord- 
ingly left Paris with his small retinue, and reached Calais, 
whence he departed for Holland, followed by Lord Cotting- 
ton, the Earl of Bristol, and the Chancellor of the Exchequer. 
He arrived there at a most opportune moment, for a revolt 
of ten ships in the parliamentary fleet, under Admiral Rains- 
borough, took place at that very time, which, after landing 
their officers, approached Holland ; and the prince having 
met them at Helvoetsluys, they placed themselves under his 
command, and he immediately sailed for the Downs. 

But this, like every previous attempt for the restoration of 
king Charles, proved in vain, through the abilities of those who 
opposed him. The fleet under the command of the prince was 
compelled, after taking a few prizes, to retire again to Holland, 
before the enemy; and the Duke of Hamilton was defeated 
by Cromwell, taken prisoner, and afterwards beheaded. In 
the meantime the king was seized and brought up to Londoij 
as a prisoner, and a day was appointed for his trial ; whicl 
so alarmed the prince, that he prevailed upon the States c 
Holland to intercede for his father, and even sent a letter to 
Fairfax himself, offering to Parliament their own terms. 
No attention, however, was paid to him, and the king was 
condemned and executed at Whitehall, on the 30th of 
January, 1648, to the consternation of all his partisans. 
And that the hopes of the Prince of Wales might be entirely 
cut off, all persons were forbidden to declare, publish, or 
promote him, or any other person, to be king or chief magis- 
trate of England or Ireland, without consent of Pcirliament; 
t]iQ House of Peers was declared useless and dangerous, and 
tiie kingly office itself utterly abolished. A commonwealth 
was erected, and all persons imposed to be true and faithful 
to it, without king or House of Lords. 

During the prince's residence in Holland, his condition 
vas miserable in the extreme. A mutiny spread through 
i'.is fleet from want of jmy, whilst continual factions not only 
livided his followers, but exposed himself and his council to 
disadvantage and disrespect. Clarendon relates an account 
of a quarrel betwccu Prince Rupert and Lord Colepepper, in 



2U.ATILES n. 423 

wiiich tlie latter challenged liis liigliness in open counciL 
Tliey had disagreed about an agent for the sale of some 
prizes taken by the fleet. Prince Rupert proposing one Sir 
JRobert Walsh, a person too well known to be trusted in such 
an affair ; and Lord Colepepper declaring this Walsh to be a 
well-known cheat, which Prince Rupert immediately took as 
reflecting upon himself. The consequence was, that though 
a reconciliation was at length effected through the inter- 
ference of the Lord Chancellor, jet Walsh, meeting Lord 
Colepepper a few days after, and having heard what had 
taken place, struck him with his fist a severe blow in the 
face, which confined Colepepper to his bed for several days. 
The Prince of Wales immediately applied to the States for 
justice, and Walsh was banished from the Hague ; but Cla- 
rendon says that this unha|3py business v*'as most injurious 
to his interests. 

Upon the execution of his unfortunate father, Charles was 
proclaimed king of Scotland by the Parliament of the nation ; 
who resolved to send a connnittee to invite him thither, on 
condition of his giving satisfaction concerning the security of 
religion, the union of the two kingdoms, and the good and 
peace of that kingdom, according to the National Covenant, 
and tlie Solemn League and Covenant. These conditions were 
extremely unacceptable to Charles and his counsellors, for 
they hated both the Covenant and the Scottish nation. The 
prince v/as also proclaimed king in Ireland by the Marquis 
of Ormonde, who had made peace with the Irish rebels, and 
had the best part of that kingdom under his subjection ; and 
there Charles hoped to enjoy his own will without restraint, 
and be assisted, on his own terms, to recov^er his other domi- 
nions. But in this he w^as disappointed ; for Cromwell, after 
subduing Ormonde and his confederates, at length brought 
Ireland entirely under the rule of the English common- 
wealth. 

In the meantime, the continual disturbances among the 
newly-proclaimed king's followers, compelled him to leave 
the Hague ; and accordingly, in 1649, having passed through 
Breda, Antwerp, and Brussels, he again joined his mother at 
Paris. But the terror of the English Parliament had ex- 
tended to the continent, and the French betrayed some uneani- 



4-i PERSONAL III.STOKY OF 

iicss at his visit. It was deemed prudent, tlierefurc, that ho 
should pass over to Jersey, where he was still acknowledged 
king ; and he accordingly departed in September of the same 
year, accompanied by a small retinue of 300 followers, and 
only as many pistoles in his purse. His sojourn here was 
rendered very brief, by the intelligence that Parliament was 
prci)ariug a powerful fleet to reduce the island to obedience ; 
Charles was, therefore, again compelled to seek safety in 
flight. While in Jersey he had been once more invited to 
Scotland upon the old conditions, upon which he appointed 
to meet the commissioners at Breda, in Holland, where, after 
a narrow escape from a storm, he arrived, and, submitting to 
their terms, embarked on the 23rd of June, 1650, for Scot- 
land. Here, in the Frith of Cromarty, before he was per- 
mitted to land, he was required to sign the Covenant; and 
many sermons and lectures were made to him, exhorting him 
to persevere in that holy confederacy. 

In Scotland the king's situation was mortifying in the 
extreme. He was obliged to submit to many restraints, and 
practise a dissimulation quite contrary to his real inclina- 
tions. He found himself considered a mere pageant of state ; 
:ind he was required to issue a declaration, in which he 
<lesired to be humbled and afflicted in spirit, because of his 
father s wicked measures ; and to lament the idolatry of his 
:iiother, and the toleration of it in his fathers house ; whilst 
liC professed to have no enemies but the enemies of the 
Covenant. 

At this period the English army, headed by Cromwell in 
person, to the number of 16,000 men, were in full marcli 
towards Scotland, and soon passed the border. The command 
of the Scottish troops had been given to Lesley, an experienced 
officer, who resisted every temptation to a battle, till, by skir- 
mishes and small encounters, he had confirmed the confidence 
of his soldiers. The young king frequently visited the camp, 
.'ind, by his spirits and vivacity, soon gained on the affections 
of the soldiery ; but the clergy became alarmed at this dis- 
jday of levity, and he was ordered to leave it ; they also 
commenced purging the army of all ungodly characters; and 
at last, when an advantage offered itself, on a Sunday, they 
very zeahnisly hindered Lesley from involving the nation in 



CHARLES II. 425 

fciibbatli-breaking. But notwithstanding the nights and days 
that the ministers wrestled with the Lord in praj^er, as they 
termed it, and notwithstanding their revelations, that the 
feectarian and heretical army, together with Agag (Crom- 
well), was delivered into their hands, — they were completely 
defeated by Cromwell at Dunbar, on the 3rd of September, 

1650, and, according to Hume, about 3,000 v/ere slain, and 
6,000 taken prisoners ; and nothing but the approach of the 
winter season, and an ague which seized Cromwell, kept him 
from pushing the victory further. 

The defeat of the Scots was considered by the king as a 
fortunate event, as they were now obliged to give him more 
authority, and many of his personal adherents, who had been 
purged from the army under the pretence of being malignants, 
were once more admitted ; but the clergy made great lamen- 
tations, and projected a humiliation or penance for the king. 
This, however, was changed into the ceremony of his coro- 
nation, wdiich was performed at Scone, on the 1st of January, 

1651, with great pomp and solemnity. But amidst all this 
appearance of respect, Charles remained in the hands of the 
most rigid Covenanters, and v^as little better than a prisoner, 
exposed to all the rudeness and peda^ntry of the ecclesiastics. 

Eespecting his conduct and adventures while under this 
constraint, Hume furnishes the following interesting particu- 
lars : — " This young prince,'' he says, '' v/as in a situation 
wdiich very ill suited his temper and disposition. All thos-o 
good qualities which he possessed, his affability, his wit, his 
gaiety, his gentleman-like, disengaged behaviour, were here so 
many vices ; and his love of ease, liberty, and pleasure, was 
regarded as the highest enormity. Though artful in the 
practice of courtly dissimulation, the sanctified style was 
utterly unknown to him, and he never could mould his 
deportment into that starched grimace which the Covenanters 
required as an infallible mark of conversion. The Duke of 
Buckingham was the only English courtier allowed to attend 
him ; and, by his ingenious talent for ridicule, he had 
rendered himself extremely agreeable to his master. While 
so many objects of derision surrounded them, it was difficult 
to be altogether insensible to the temptation, and wholly to 
repress the laudi. Oblia'ed to attend from morning till night 



42G PEUSONAL IIISTOUY OF 

at sermons, they betrayed evident syniptoms of weariness or 
contempt. The clergy never could esteem the king suffi- 
ciently regenerated : and by continual exhortations, remon- 
sti'ances, and reprimauvis, they still endeavoured to bring 
hlui to a juster sense of his spiritual duty. 

'^ The king's passion for the fair could not be altogether 
restrained. He had once been observed to use some fami- 
liarities with a young woman; and a committee of ministers 
was appointed to reprove him for a behaviour so unbecoming 
a covenanted monarch. The spokesman of the committee, 
one Douglas, began with a severe aspect, informed the king 
that great scandal had been given to the godly, enlarged on 
the heinous nature of the sin, and concluded with exhorting 
his majesty, wdienever he was disposed to amuse himself, to 
be more careful for the future, in shutting the windo^vs. 
This delicacy, so unusual to the place, and to the character 
of the man, was regarded by the king, and he never forgot 
the obligation." 

These indignities and formalities could not fail to disgust 
the king beyond all power of endurance. On one occasion 
he actually made his escape towards the Highlands ; but 
Colonel ]\Iontgomery being sent in pursuit of him with a 
troop of horse, prevailed on him to return; and this incident 
procured him better treatment, and more authority. 

As soon as the season w^as sufficiently advanced for further 
action, Charles was permitted to head the Scottish army, and 
being strongly intrenched, with the towm of Stirling at his 
back, he resisted every attempt to bring him to an engage- 
ment. Cromwell, however, harassed him on every side, and 
was at length enabled to cut off his provisions. Charles, 
reduced to despair, embraced a resolution worthy of a young 
prince struggling for empire. Having the w^ay open, he 
resolved to march into the heart of England ; and accord- 
ingly, with the consent of his generals, he advanced with his 
whole army of 14,000 men towards the south. 

Cromwell, though taken aback by this movement, imme- 
diately left iMonk in Scothmd, and hastened to follow the 
king. Charles, who in the meantime had hoped to be joined 
by great numbers, found himself deceived ; such was the 
prevailing terror of the parliamentary forces. He continued, 



CHARLES ]I. 427 

however, liis march to Worcester, where Cromwell fell upon 
him with an array of 80,000 men, on the 8rd of September, 
1651, and a battle ensued, in which the king was so com- 
pletely defeated that, in the opinion of both his friends and 
foes, all hopes of possessing the throne of his fathers seemed 
for ever lost. For the particulars of this disastrous battle, 
and his subsequent escapes and adventures, which are unex- 
ampled, perhaps, for stirring incident, in the annals of ro- 
mance, see the account given by himself some years after to 
Pepys, then secretary to the Admiralty, as well as the con- 
temporary narratives called the Boscolel Tracts^ all of which 
are appended to the present volume, and are the most au- 
thentic sources of this eventful portion of Charles's history. 

We will only here observe, that his fortunate concealment 
in the old oak in Boscobel Wood, is still commemorated an- 
nually on the 29th of May, by the wearing of oak leaves and 
apples, which are sold about the streets, decorated with gold 
leaf. 

After the many hair-breadth escapes, so fully detailed in 
these narratives, Charles arrived in France, in the latter end 
of November, 1651, where he remained for nearly three years, 
in a very poor condition. He had a small and insufficient pen- 
sion from the French court; and Clarendon says, he had not 
credit enough to borrow twenty pistoles. 

France and Spain now paid the most servile court to Crora- 
v/ell, in order to gain his friendship. The former obtained it 
on condition of sending Charles and his brother, the Duke of 
York, out of that kingdom ; and accordingly, in the middle 
of June, 1654, the king v/as obliged to leave Paris, and 
pa.ssing through Flanders, settled in Cologne. While here, 
understanding that Cromwell had broken with Spain, he 
sent a memorial to the king of that country, to endeavour to 
persuade him to enter into an alliance ; and though it quite 
failed of that object, yet it produced a pension of 9,000Z. per 
annum, for him and the Duke of York, which was very ac- 
ceptable, as the one which he had hitherto received from France 
ceased upon his removal. It, however, was irregularly paid, 
and very inadequate to his necessities, and of those about him.. 
At Cologne he resided for about two years, and then re- 
moved to Bruges, where, according to Thurloe, his court wa.s 



4'2S PKIISONAL HISTORY OF 

:i constant scone of profliiracy ancl misrule, and in such 
(lisre])utc, that on the occasion of one of the richest churches 
in Bruges having been plundered in the night, his fol- 
lowers were suspected as a matter of course. It appears 
that his little court was greatly straitened at this period, 
even to the want sometimes of the common necessaries 
of life.'* It was here that Cromwell plotted with his 
secretary Thurloe to get the king into his power. Accord- 
ing to Burnet, Sir liichard AVillis, in whom the roy- 
alist ])arty confided, was bribed to give notice of all their 
designs; and the Protector projected with Thurloe, that 
Willis should persuade the king to land near Chichester, in 
Sussex, where an insurrection was to have been raised. More- 
land, however, the under-secretary of Thurloe, happened to 
be in the room, and pretending to be asleep, heard all that 
passed, and contrived to forewarn the king. In Thurloe s 
State Papers^ there is a letter of intelligence, dated August 
14, 16.5G, alluding to this circumstance. Welwood also says, 
that Cromwell perceiving Moreland, and fearing that he must 
have overheard their discourse, drew his j^oignard and was 
going to despatch him on the spot, but Thurloe prevailed on 
him to desist, assuring him that Moreland had sat up two 
nights together, and was now certainly asleep. 

During the whole period of Charles's exile, attempts and 
negotiations continued to be made by his partisans for his 
restoration ; but they were invariably detected and frustrated 
by the vigilance of his enemies, or the treachery of his friends. 
Promises were made to the king by Spain of powerful assist- 
ance ; but the Spaniards had so poor an opinion of his interest 
in England, that they could never be induced in reality to 
hazard any thing in his favour beyond the pension. In Febru- 
ary, 1658, he removed to 13russels, but did not improve his 
condition, or that of his personal adherents, who, though often 
utterly at a loss for subsistence, seemed never to want a sub- 

* The following copy of a note of hand of his majesty to John Fotlierly, 
Esq., will give the reader some idea of the straits he was reduced to in 
Flanders ; — 

** I doe acknowledge to liave receaved the summe of one hundred pounds 
sterling, wliich I doe promis to repay as soon as I am able. Bruges. 

*' 21 Decern. 1G57. " Charles R.'' 



CHARLES II. 42 [> 

ject for disagreement, Qtirte relates the following iueideRt 
which occurred there : " One of the king's followers, a 
Scotch knight of the name of Maxwell, lodged in the house 
of a citizen of the town, who, being zealously affected to 
Charles's cause, gave him his lodging and diet r/ratis. This 
seasonable hospitality and kindness in his distress could not 
on all occasions keep down the Scotchman's i3assions : he 
quarrelled with his honest landlord, and swore he would never 
eat with him more. He kept his word for a whole day, fast- 
ing all that time ; but it not agreeing over well with his cou^ 
stifution, he consulted with his friend the Marquis of Ormonde, 
what he should do. ' Really,' said the Marquis, with great 
gravity, ' all the advice I can give in your case is, to go to 
your lodging; first eat your words, and then your supper.'" 
Hyde also, in a letter to Ormonde, dated Brussels, says, " ^^e 
are all without a dollar, and have been long; and they who 
have neitlier money nor credit are like to keep a cold Christ- 
mas." And again he says, " My wife is ready to lie in, and 
all things wanting." 

Throughout, however, the whole of this period, Charles's 
love of pleasure and admiration of women were predominant. 
Lady Byron is spoicen of by Pepys as his '* seventeenth mis- 
tress abroad," and his connection witli the beautiful Lucy 
Waiters, with Mrs. Elizabeth Killigrew, Mrs. Catherine Peg, 
<!vc. &c., had a most injurious effect upon his character and 
cause. In Thurloe's State Papers we find numerous allu- 
sions to his various mistresses, and in a letter to his aunt, 
the Queen of Bohemia, written at Cologne, he complains 
of " the want of good fiddlers, and of some capable of 
teaching new dances." It is not, therefore, to be wondered 
at, that a government supported by a veteran army, and 
flushed with uninterrupted success, should have so little 
dread of men continually at A'ariance with each other, headed 
by a prince, poor and exiled, who spent his time in idle- 
ness or low amours. But, notwithstanding these tastes, he 
seems on several occasions to have been desirous of form- 
ing a matrimonial settlement, though he was as often disap- 
poirted. From Orrery s State Papers^ and other sources, we 
learn that the first lady to whom he ofiercd himself was no 
other than Frances Cromwell, the youngest daughter of the 



430 PERSONAL II rSTO UY OF 

Protector ; and the consent of the lady and her mother was 
actually iT:aIned. The offer was communicated to Cromwell 
by Lord Broghill, but he is said to have abruptly answered, 
'' No ! the king would never forgive me the death of his 
father ; besides, he is so damnably debauched, he cannot bo 
trusted." He afterwards proposed to marry Hortensia, niece 
to Cardinal Mazarine, and the most beautiful young woman 
in the world, but met with a similar refusal. After the 
Restoration, however. Mazarine tried to bring it about, offer- 
ing a vast portion, but it was the king s turn to refuse, and the 
lady was rejected. Charles again made proposals to the daugh- 
ter of the Duke of Orleans, who was in possession of the rich 
duchy of Montpensier, which was also broken off, though car- 
ried to greater length than the two others. At another time 
he made a personal application to the Princess Dowager of 
Orange, for the hand of her daughter Henrietta, but the old 
lady declined the offer. Afterwards, when the deputation 
from Parliament waited on Charles, bringing him 50,000/., 
and inviting him to the throne, she seems to have bitterly 
regretted her blunder, and endeavoured to repair it ; the 
king, however, treated her overtures with the contempt they 
merited. He also engaged in other matrimonial speculations, 
amongst others to a daughter of the Duke of Lorraine, but in 
all he appears to have been equally unfortunate. This was 
certainly a remarkable feature in Charles's history, for, if he 
signally failed in his honourable proposals, he at least succeeded 
as entirely in his libertine attachments. 

In August, 1G58, the king removed from Brussels to a vil- 
lage called Hochstraten, where he first received the news of 
Cromwell's death, which took place in September, 1658 ; he 
is said to have been playing at tennis, when Sir Stephen Fox 
fell on his knees before him, and communicated to him the 
imj)ortant tidings. He immediately returned to Brussels, that 
lie might be ready to make use of any advantage. Here it 
was that, according to Lockhart, as related by Jesse, the fol- 
lowing adventure befell Charles. " It seems that the king, 
desirous of paying a secret visit to his sister, the Princess of 
Orange, who was then residing at the Hague, instructed a 
faithful adherent of his, named Fleming, to have a couple of 
horses ready at a particular hour in the night. Accordingly, 



CHARLES II. ^31 

having enjoined his little court to plead indisposition as the 
cause of his seclusion, he stole away, and making great ex- 
pedition, he arrived at the Hague ; where, having adopted an 
excellent disguise, he alighted at a small inn, whence he 
despatched Fleming to his sister to contrive an interview. 
Scarcely had Fleming returned, when an ' old reverend- 
like man, with a long grey beard, and ordinary grey 
clothes,' entered the inn, and begged for a private inter- 
view with Charles. After a little demurring, Fleming 
quitted the apartment, and the stranger cautiously bolted 
the door. He then fell on his knees, and pulling off his 
disguise, discovered himself to be the celebrated Sir George 
Downing, then ambassador from Cromwell to the States- 
General. An explanation followed, in which Downing im- 
plored the forgiveness of the king for the part which he 
had taken, assuring him that he was loyal at heart, and 
acquainted him with the circumstance that the Dutch had 
guaranteed to the English Commonwealth to deliver Charles's 
person into their hands, should he ever set foot in their terri- 
tories. Downing concluded by advising the king to leave the 
States immediately, as so extraordinary were the Protector's 
means of intelligence, that he expected to find ofiicial in- 
formation of the present visit upon bis return home, a neglect 
of which would be attended with the loss of his head. This 
timely warning probably saved Charles's liberty ; he imme- 
diately acted upon it, and did not forget the obligation. 

The hopes of the royalists, which were rising on the 
death of Cromwell, were once more doomed to be disap- 
pointed. Richard Cromwell, the eldest son of Oliver, had 
been proclaimed by Monk, and acknowledged Protector; 
whilst congratulatory addresses poured in upon him from all 
parts of the kingdom, and foreign ministers were forward in 
paying him the usual compliments. His reign, however, was 
but short. Cabals commenced in the army; and Richard, 
who wanted the energy and resolution of his father, was 
unable to subdue them, and accordingly resigned his protec- 
torship on the 22nd of April, 1659.'^' A council of officers 

* An old pamphlet, printed 'within a month of the time, viz. in May, 

1659, 



432 PERSONAL llIiSTORY OF 

was now formed, wlio ciulciivoured to revive the Long Parlia- 
ment, but no sooner was it recalled than continual struggles 
took place between that and the military. 

The army in the meantime had become dangerous. The 
Parliament, alarmed at the daily increase of its power, 

1G59, entitled, ** The World in a Maze, or OHver's Ghof^t,'' is very 
satirical on this subject : we give the commencement : — 
** Oliver. Richard, Richard, Richard, Richard ! 
Rich, Who calls Richard ? 'Tis a hollow voice ; 
And yet perhaps it may be mine own thoughts. 

Oliver. No, 
'Tis thy father risen from the grave, 
Who would not have thee fool'd, nor yet turn knave. 

Rich. I could not help it, father, they out-witted my proceedings. 
Oliver. Did I not leave the government to thee ? 
Rich. Father, they put me on it to agree. 
To keep the nation quiet. 

Oliver, Not meaning thou shouldst rule lung. 
Rich, I ne'er desired it. 

Oliver. Then thou wast not ambitious of honour ? 
Rich, No ; honour is but a bauble, 
And to keep it is but trouble ; 
Only they that are well descended. 
Shall ever be commended and befriended. 

Oliver, What, dost thou tell me of tliat ? we have won all by the 
sword, and so we'll keep it. 

Rich. What, w^hether we can or no ? 

Oliver, 'Tis true, Dick, I must confess, I have been somew^hat ambitious 
of honour, thou knowest ; now I commend thy modesty all this while ; but 
prithee, Dick, tell me one thing, because my conscience accused me before 
I died, concerning the paying of the soldiers. 

Rich. That thing was questioned by a Parliament too good to hold long. 
Oliver. Who turned them out ? 
Rich. Not I. 
Oliver. Who then ? 
Rich, The sword-men. 
Oliver. Then they overpowered thee ; 
They could never do so with me. 

Rich. Mistake me not, you overpowered a kinp:, 
From whence this mischief all this while doth s})ring, 
He gave the staff out of his hand 'tis known. 
And then at last you made the power your own ; 
The people of the land do find it so, 
From whence proceeds their misery and woe ; 
Sir, can you deny it ? 
Oliver. No."' 



CHARLES II. 4,^3 

casliieied the general officers, including Lambert, wlio in turn 
placed troops in the streets leading to Westminster Hall, to 
intercept the members on their way to the house ; whilst a 
solemn fast was kept, the usual prelude to signal violence. 
At this period the wily and cautious Monk stepped forward 
to effect the king's restoration. He rapidly marched towards 
Lambert, who was soon deserted by his soldiers, and shortly 
afterwards arrested and committed to the Tower. He then, 
by a series of skilful measures, brought about the dissolution 
of the Long Parliament, and a new one was called, the 
elections for which were everywhere in favour of the king's 
party. Throughout all these proceedings his reserve was 
impenetrable, and with only a single friend, a Devonshire 
gentleman named Morrice, did he deliberate concerning the 
great enterprise which he was contemplating. At this junc- 
ture, Sir John Granville, who had a commission from his 
majesty, obtained, after some difficulty, a private interview 
with Monk, during which, finding the king's messenger to be 
a person of trust, the general communicated his whole inten- 
tions, but would only deliver a verbal message. He assured 
Charles that he v/ould die, or bring him home to his royal 
inheritance, and advised him to quit Spain, where he had 
resorted for assistance at this juncture, lest he should be 
detained as a pledge for the recovery of Dunkirk and 
Jamaica. The king immediately followed his directions, and 
very narrowly escaped to Breda ; whilst Granville was sent 
back with a letter addressed by Charles to the Parliament, 
by whom it was greedily received, and ordered to be printed : 
and the Lords, perceiving the spirit by which the people were 
actuated, as well as the Commons, hastened to reinstate 
themselves in their ancient authority, and to take their share 
in the settlement of the nation. 

On the 8th of May, 1660, the two houses attended, and 
the king was proclaimed with great solemnity, in Palace- 
yard, at Whitehall, and at Temple-bar. The Commons 
voted 500/. to buy a jewel for Granville; a present of 
50,000/. was conferred on the king, 10,000/. on the Duke of 
York, and 5,000/. on the Duke of Gloucester. A deputa- 
tion of Lords and Commons was despatched to invite his 
majesty to return and take possession of the government ; 



4'ui PERSONAL HISTORY OF 

and Admiral Montague was coininandcd to attend him upon 
the coast of Holbnul, with a Sf^uadron of ships to bring him 
over. 

Charles's condition, upon receiving the invitation of Par- 
liament, is described as miserable in the extreme. Pepys 
says, that all his clothes, and those of his attendants, were 
not worth forty shillings ; and so delighted was he with the 
money, that he called the Princess Royal and the Duke of 
York to look at it as it lay in the portmanteau. He imme- 
diately removed from Breda to the Hague, where he was 
splendidly entertained by the States; and on the 24th of 
May he embarked at Shoveling. After a prosperous voyage, 
he landed at Dover on the 20th, and some of the seamen who 
brought him over declared, that the first time they had ever 
heard the Common Prayer and God-damn-ye, was on board 
the ship that came home with his majesty, alluding to the 
puritanical rigour with which both swearing and the reading 
of the English liturgy had been prohibited. At length, on 
the 29th of May, and the anniversary of his birth-day, he 
entered London amidst the most fervent joy and rapturous 
exultations. The roads were everywhere thronged with 
spectators ; the houses were decorated with streamers, flowers, 
and ribands ; and he entered Whitehall amidst the roar of 
cannon, and the acclamations of thousands. The whole 
nation, according to Burnet, was mad with delight. Through- 
out the night the sky was illumined with bonfires and fire- 
works, and the streets ran with wine. Charles, however, 
<lisplayed his gratitude to heaven by passing the night in 
the arras of Mrs. Palmer, afterwards Lady Castlemaine and 
Duchess of Cleveland, at the house of Sir Samuel Morland, 
at Lambeth. 

Of the king's restoration, Evelyn gives the following short 
but graphic description in his Diary: — "May 29th, 1660. 
This day his Majesty Charles the Second came to London, 
after a sad and long exile, and calamitous suffering, both of 
the king and church, being seventeen years. This was also 
his birth-day, and with a triumph of above 20,000 horse and 
foot, brandishing their swords and shouting with inexpressible 
joy ; the ways strewed with flowers, the bells ringing, the 
streets hung with tapestry, fountains running with wine; the 



CHARLES II. 



mayor, aldermen, and all the companies in their liveries, chains 
of gold, and banners ; lords and nobles clad in cloth of silver, 
gold, and velvet; the windows and balconies all set with 
ladies ; trumpets, music, and myriads of people flocking, even 
so far as from R-ochester, so as they were seven hours in pass- 
ing the city, even from two o'clock in the afternoon till nine 
at night. 

"I stood in the Strand and beheld it, and blessed God. 
And all this was done without one drop of bloodshed, and 
by that very army which rebelled against him ; but it was the 
Lord's doing, for such a rebellion was never mentioned in any 
history, ancient or modern, since the return of the Jews from 
the Babylonish captivity ; nor so joyful a day, or so bright, 
ever seen in this nation, this happening when to expect or 
effect it was beyond all human policy." 

In his Diary, on the 4th of June, he adds : " The eager- 
ness of men, women, and children to see his majesty and kiss 
his hands, was so great, that he had scarce leisure to eat for 
some days, coming as they did from ail parts of the nation ; 
and the king being as willing to give them that satisfaction, 
would have none kept out, but gave free access to all sorts of 
people." 

In reference to this enthusiastic reception, Charles sarcas- 
tically remarked, that it must have been his own fault he 
was so long absent, as every one seemed unanimous in pro- 
moting his return. 

One of Charles's first public acts was touching for the evil, 
which Evelyn thus describes : " July 6th, 1660. His majesty 
began first to touch for the evil according to custom, thus : his 
majesty sitting under his state in the banqueting-house, the 
chirurgeons cause the sick to be brought or led up to the 
throne, where they kneeling, the king strokes their faces or 
cheeks with both his hands at once, at which instant a chap- 
lain in his formalities says, ' He put his hands upon them, and 
he healed them/ This is said to every one in particular. 
When they have been all touched, they come np again in the 
same order, and the other chaplain kneeling, and having angel- 
gold strung on white riband on his arm, delivers them one 
by one to his majesty, who puts them about the necks of the 
touched as they pass, whilst the first chaplain repeats, ^ That 

2 F 2 



43(j TERSONAL IIISTOIiY OP 

is the true light who came into the world/ Then follows an 
epistle (as at fir.^t a go-^pel), with the liturgy, prayers for the 
sick, with some alterations, lastly the Llessing : and then the 
lord-chamberlain and comptroller of the household bring a 
basin, ewer, and towel, for his majesty to wash." In this man- 
ner his majesty stroked above six hundred, and such was his 
princely j^atience and tenderness to the poor afllicted creatures, 
that, though it took up a very long time, bis majesty, without 
betraying weariness, was pleased to make inquiry whether 
there were any more that had not yet been touched. 

Charles II., when he ascended the throne, was thirty years 
of age; he was crowned on the 22nd of April, 1661, and 
married to Catherine of Braganza, the Infanta of Portugal, on 
the 21st of May, 1662. Some overtures had been made by 
the father of this princess to Charles I., as far back as the 
year 1644, when she was only seven years of age, and 
Charles, then Prince of Wales, only fourteen, but her being 
a Roman Catholic seems to have prevented their being ac- 
cep)ted. The expediency of choosing a Protestant queen was 
on the present occasion suggested by many of the lords, 
but Charles asked where he should find one. Several 
German princesses were mentioned, but, " Odds fish," ex- 
claimed the king, '' they are all dull and foggy." The 
selection of Catherine has been attributed to Clarendon, who, 
as she was said to be incapable of bearing children, naturally 
chose her, as he did not wish to deprive the Duke of York 
of the succession. Her promised portion of 500,000^. ren- 
dered the marriage acceptable to Charles ; but a sight of the 
portrait of the dark-eyed Infanta is said to have had some 
effect upon his decision. This very portrait was in the pos- 
session of Horace Walpole, and lately sold at the dispersion 
of the Strawberry Hill collection, to Yiscount Holmesdale, for 
thirty-two guineas. Catherine is there represented as a 
lovely, glowing brunette, with enchanting dark eyes, and a 
rich profusion of chesnut hair. 

Her dowry was to have consisted of 500,000/. sterling, in 
ready money ; the territory of Tangier ; the island of Bom- 
bay ; with a free trade in Brazil and the East Indies, which 
the Portuguese had hitherto denied to all nations but them- 
selves. Accordingly the Earl of Sandwich was despatched 



CHARLES fl. 437 

with a fleet to take possession of Tangier, and directed to 
visit Portugal on his return and conduct the queen to England. 
The former he accomplished, but on reaching Portugal, the 
queen-mother was compelled to confess her inability for 
paying more than the lialf of her daughter s portion, pledging 
herself, however, to pay the residue within the year. This vvas 
a most perplexing circumstance for the poor ambassador, but 
he at length consented to receive the moiety ; though scarcely 
had he done so, before he had the mortification of discovering 
that, instead of being paid in ready money, according to the 
treaty, the sum was to be delivered in the form of bags of 
sugar, spices, and other merchandize. This disagreeable 
aifair was at length arranged by the earl's agreeing to 
receive them on board his ships as a consignment to some 
merchant in London, who should be empowered by the 
queen-regent to take them in bulk, and pay the king the 
money which had been stipulated ; whilst a bond was given 
by the crown for the payment of the remainder. 

Of the Infanta's reception in England, Eeresby, in his 
Memoirs, says: "On the 19tli of May, 1662, the king went 
to receive the Infanta at Portsmouth, attended by the greatest 
court I ever saw in my progress. But though upon this 
occasion every thing was gay and splendid, and profusely 
joyful, it was easy to discern that the king was not exces- 
sively charmed with his new bride, who was a very little 
woman, wdth a pretty tolerable face ; she, neither in person 
nor manners, had any one article to stand in competition 
with the charms of the Countess of Castlemaine (afterwards 
Duchess of Cleveland), the finest woman of her age. It is 
v\'ell known that the lord chancellor had the blame of this 
unfruitful match, and that the queen was said to have been 
incapable of conception." 

After Charles's marriage, his first great difiiculty was to 
reconcile his new queen to his mistress, Lady Castlemaine. 
lie had previously endeavoured to stifle the jealousy of the 
latter, by promising that on his union she should be made 
one of the ladies of the queen's bedchamber. Accordingly, 
at the head of the list of appointments Catherine was startled 
with seeing the name of the dreaded Lady Castlemaine, of 
whom she had received previous notice. She instantly drew 



43S PERSONAL IlISTOltV OF 

licr pen across it, and, ficcording to Pcpys, cut feliort all 
remonstrances by telling the king he mnst either accede to 
Iier \vi.^hcs, or send her back to Lisbon. Charles yielded at 
the time, but again tried the experiment by presenting his 
mistress to her majesty before the assembled court. Not 
having distinctly heard her name, Catherine, to the surprise 
of every one, received her graciously, and permitted her to 
kiss her hand. A whisper from one of her Portuguese ladies 
admonished her of the fact. Her colour instantly changed ; 
her eyes suffused with tears; and the blood gushing from 
her nostrils, she was carried from the apartment in a lit. 

Some time elapsed before she could be prevailed upon to 
sanction lier husband's infidelity by such an appointment. 
The king tried to pacify her by saying that his honour was at 
stake, and promising to have nothing more to do with Lady 
Castlemaine, which promise of course he instantly violated. 
Charles then applied to Lord Clarendon to effect a reconci- 
liation, but after three interviews, she still shrunk with anger 
and abhorrence from the indignity proposed. At length the 
king altered his demeanour, and treated her vrith coldness and 
neglect ; she found herself left out in all parties of amuse- 
ment, and in this conjuncture she suddenly fell into Charles's 
wishes. She conversed with her rival before a large party, 
and we find her subsequently joining in many of the wild 
frolics of the ladies of the court. AYe hear but little of her 
in the after part of the reign. She was once with child, 
but miscarried, which contradicted the report that she was 
incapable of bearing children ; and upon the occasion of a 
court frolic in which she joined, , it was said that the Duke of 
Buckingham proposed to steal her away and send her to a 
jdantation ; but Charles declined it, saying " It was a wicked 
thing to make a poor lady miserable, only because she was 
!:is wnfc, and had no children by him, which was no fault of 
hers." 

From the very commencenient of Charles's reign, his thought- 
iess and reckless profusion was continually involving him in 
difliculties; and one of his first unpopular acts was the sale 
of Dunkirk, iu 1CG2, to the French, for the sum of 400,000/. 
The odiinn of this latter transaction has been thrown on Lord 
Clarendon, who however in the Continuation of his Life, states, 



CHARLES 11. 4S9 

that the matter was debated by the king and a secret committee : 
and that besides the king's straits, they were influenced by 
the following reasons. 1. That the profit which accrued from 
the keejnng of Dunkirk was very inconsiderable. 2. That 
the charge of maintaining it, besides any accidents it might 
receive from the enemy, amounted to above 120,000f. per 
annum. 8. That if Dunkirk was kept, the king must shortly 
go to war with either France or Spain. He also adds, that the 
worth of the artillery, ammunition, and stores did not exceed 
20,000^. 

In 1663, a rupture with Holland took place, and in 166T, 
a Dutch fleet entered the Thames, and proceeding up the 
Medway, burned and destroyed ships as far as Chatham. In 
1665, the dreadful plague raged in London, which swept away 
97,309 persons. Reresby says, " It was a common thing for 
people to drop down in the streets as they went about their 
business." In 1666, the great fire of London broke out in a 
bakehouse in Pudding-lane, near Fish-street, and after raging 
for three days, reduced two-thirds of the metropolis to ashes. 
Throughout this dreadful calamity, Charles displayed an 
energy which his most intimate friends thought him inca- 
pable of exercising. He broke from his pleasures and his 
mistresses, mixed among the workmen, animated them by his 
example, and often rewarded them with his own hand. Many 
attempts were made to discover its origin, which at the time 
was universally attributed to the Papists;"^ but though a rigid 
inquiry was instituted, nothing satisfactory could ever be 
ascertained. 

In 1667, the great Clarendon was disgraced and banished, 
which led to the establishment of a ministry in 1670, consist- 
ing of Clifford, Ashley, Buckingham, Arlington, and Lauder- 
dale, which was called the Cabal, a word which the initial let- 

* A Latin inscription on the Monument, erected in commemoration of 
this calamity, ascribes the fire to the Papists ; and though the imputation 
was erased in the reign of James II., it was restored at the Revolution. 
Pope thus alludes to it : — 

*' Where London's column pointing to the skies, 
Like a tall bully, lifts the head and lies." 
It was again erased, by order of the Common Council, shortly after the 
passing of the Catholic Emancipation hUl 



4 40 PEPvSONAL IHSTOPxY OF j 

tersof their names liai^penod to compose. In 1671, Parliament 
being met to grant the king some money, Sir John Coventry, 
according to Rereshy, "made a speech, reflecting on the 
king's wenching among the players; for at that time, besides 
his mistresses of higher quality, Charles entertained Mary 
Davis and Nell Gwynn. It seems that Coventry, having 
moved in the House of Commons for an imposition on the play- 
houses. Sir John Berkenhead, to excuse them, said, ' they had 
been of great service to the king/ Upon which Coventry 
asked, ' whether he meant the men or women 2)layers/ This 
being reported to the Duke of Monmouth, he ordered Sir 
Thomas Sands and three others to waylay Coventry ; which 
they accordingly did, and, taking him out of his coach, slit his 
nose. This caused a great heat in the house, and gave rise 
to the act against malicious maiming and wounding." 

A short time after, the notorious Colonel Blood formed his 
design of carrying off the crown and regalia from the Tower. 
He was overtaken and seized, and frankly avowed his guilt, 
but refused to tell his accomplices. " The fear of death," he 
said, " should never engage him to deny guilt, or betray a 
friend.*' Charles went to see him, and inquired how he 
dared attempt the deed ? '' My father," said Blood, " lost a 
good estate in fighting /or the Crown, and I considered it no 
hai'm to recover it hy the crown." He also acquainted the 
king with an idea which he once had of murdering him, but 
Avas checked by an awe of majesty. Charles, it is said, in 
admiration of his wit and courage, not only granted him a 
pardon, but, no doubt, for some stronger reason, which has 
never transpired, gave him an estate of 500/. a year, in Ire- 
land, and encouraged his attendance about his person ; wdiile 
old Edwards, who had bravely ventured his life, and had been 
wounded in defending the crown and regalia, was forgotten 
and neglected. 

In ] 674, Shaftesbury, who had been made Lord Chancel- 
lor, was compelled to deliver up his seals ; and a number of 
liis political enemies were assembled in the ante-chamber to 
witness and triumph over his deprivation of the badges of his 
office. Shaftesbury, who observed this, resolved to deprive 
tliem of that expected enjoyment ; and accordingly begged 
the king tliat he might be allovrcd to carry the seals before 



CHARLES II. 441 

lilin to chapel, and send them to him afterwards from his 
house, in order that he might not appear to be dismissed with 
contempt. " Codsfish,*' replied Charles, " I will not do it 
with any circumstance that looks like an affront." Having 
conversed for a length of time upon such gay topics as usually 
amused the king, his adversaries, who had been all the while 
on the rack of expectation, were at length greeted with the 
sight of Charles and his chancellor, issuing forth together, 
apparently upon the best possible terms. His expected suc- 
cessor and enemies were inconsolable ; they concluded nothing 
less than that Shaftesbury's peace was made. After enjoy- 
ing this triumph, the ex-chancellor returned the seals to the 
king. 

Charles always regarded Shaftesbury with some sort of 
personal affection, as this anecdote proves ; and the latter 
could be as witty as the merry king himself. On one occa- 
sion, Charles, who was an able judge of the matter, placed 
him in no inferior rank among the profligates of the day. 
" Shaftesbury," said he, " I verily believe thou art the 
wickedest dog in England." "For a subject^ your majesty, I 
believe I am," retorted the witty statesman. 

In 1677, William, Prince of Orange, came to England, with 
proposals for marrying the Princess Mary (eldest daughter of 
the Duke of York, and heir apparent to the crown, as the 
duke had no male issue). Reresby, in his Memoirs, gives the 
following amusing anecdote of the king's reducing Prince 
William to a state of liquor : — " One night, at a supper 
given by the Duke of Buckingham, the king made him drink 
very hard; the heavy Dutchman was naturally averse to it, 
but being once entered, was the most frolicsome of the com- 
pany ; and now the mind took him to break the windows of 
the chambers of the maids of honour, and he had got into their 
apartments, had they not been timely rescued. His mistress, 
I suppose, did not like him the worse for such a notable indi- 
cation of his vigour.'' 

In 1678 took place the pretended discovery of the Popish 
Plot, by Titus Oates and Bedloe, which for a time diffused 
a universal panic. Oates was the son of an Anabaptist 
preacher, and had been previously indicted for perjury. He 
is described as '' a low man, of an ill-cut, very short neck, 



442 PERSONAL IIISTOIiY OP 

and his visage and features most particular. His mouth was 
the centre of his face; and a compass there wouUl sweep liis 
nose, forehead, and chin, within the diameter." During the 
time of his exaltation, he walked about with guards, for fear 
he should be murdered by the l*apists, and had lodgings as- 
signed him at Whitehall, with a pension of 1,200Z. per annum, 
lie put on an episcopal garb, and was called, or called himself, 
the saviour of the nation. Whoever he pointed at was 
taken up and committed ; so that many people got out of his 
way as from a blast, and glad if they could prove their two 
last years' conversation. On his examination before the 
council, he committed many palpable blunders. He spoke 
of Don Juan as doing some great thing towards killing the 
king ; and upon the being asked what sort of man he was, 
Gates answered that he was a tall black man. Charles could 
not refrain from laughing, for he happened to know Don Juan 
personally, and he was a low, red-haired man. Again, when 
having spoken of the Jesuits' College at Paris, the king asked 
him where it stood ; upon which he answered as much out of the 
way as if he had said, " Gresham College stood in Westmin- 
ster.*' During the heat of his plot, he had the audacity to accuse 
the queen of poisoning the king ; and even went to the bar of 
the House of Commons, and said, with his peculiar enunciation, 
•^'Aye, Taitus Gates, accause Catherine, Queen of England, 
of haigh traison 1" Charles was so indignant at this, that he 
immediately put him in confinement. ''They think," said he, 
" I have a mind to a new wife ; but, for all that, I will not 
see an innocent woman abused." An immense number of 
persons suffered by the impeachments of Gates, during a space 
of upwards of two years. The last victim was the unfortu- 
nate Viscount Stafford, who w\as beheaded on the 29tli of 
December, 1680; and his execution may be looked upon as 
the concluding scene of this shameful and barbarous delusion. 
In 1683, Gates was convicted of having called the Duke of 
jMon mouth a popish traitor, and was fined 100,000/. He v/as 
subsetjuently found guilty of ^^crjury by King James, and 
ordered to be i)illoried five times a year, and imprisoned for 
life. After the Revolution, however, he appears to have been 
released, and, strange to say, received a pension of 400/. per 
nnnm from William of Grange. 



CHARLES II. 443 

The king, tlirougliout tlie wliole period of liis reign, was at 
variance with his Parliament. His profuse expenditure upon 
his mistresses obliged him to be continually applying for 
money, and so little could they depend upon him, that he was 
said to have retained a large portion of the sum which the 
Commons had voted for carrying on the war with Holland, 
and a motion was brought forward for examining the accounts. 
For all this he was frequently reduced to great necessity. 
Pepys tells us, that at one time he was actually in want of 
linen ; and a Mr. Townsend, the w^ardrobe-man, told him that 
the linen-draper was owed 5,000Z., and the grooms, being un- 
able to get their fees, took away the king's line^. at the quar- 
ters end ; and yet, at this yety period, his mistress, the 
Duchess of Cleveland, is reported to have lost in gaming 
25,000Z. on a single night. 

Charles, however, could jest upon his difficulties. He once 
asked Stillingfleet why he always read his sermons in the 
chapel-royal, but preached extempore everywhere else. Stil- 
lingfleet answered, that it was from awe of his audience, and 
begged to know why his majesty read his speeches to Parlia- 
ment. '^ Odd's fish. Doctor," said the king, '• 'tis no difficult 
question. I always ask for money, and I have so often asked 
for it, that I am ashamed to look the members in the face." 

His continual dissensions with Parliament, combined with 
the promptings of his brother, the Duke of York, induced 
Charles to endeavour to govern without one. In 1681, he 
accordingly dissolved it, without attempting to call a nevv^ one ; 
and eyerj day, from that period, his authority made great 
advances. In 1683, the celebrated Pye-house conspiracy was 
discovered, which was followed by the melancholy execution 
of Lord Russell and Algernon Sidney. Innumerable applica- 
tions were made to the king for the pardon of Pussell. The 
old Earl of Bedford offered a hundred thousand pounds to 
the Duchess of Portsmouth, but the king was inexorable. 
The execution of Algernon Sidney is regarded as one of the 
greatest blemishes of Charles's reign. The violent and inhu- 
man Jefferies was chief justice ; and though the evidence was 
illegal, yet a packed jury was prevailed on to give a verdict 
against him. On the discovery of this plot, Evelyn says, 
*' The public was in great consternation ; his majesty very 



4U I'Lii.iONAL lll.^rOUY OF 

iiielanclioly, and not stirrlns: ^vitllOut double guards ; all the 
avenues and private doors about AVliitehall and the Park shut 
up, few admitted to walk in it. The Papists, in the mean- 
time, very jocund, and indeed with reason, seeing their own 
2)lot brouglit to nothing, and turned to ridicule, and now a 
conspiracy of Protestants, as they called them/' 

During the latter period of his reign Charles is said to have 
been almost absolute ; but, notwithstanding the continual 
]iromptings of his brother to rivet the fetters of tyranny, he 
could not forget the circumstances which led to his father's 
execution and his own exile. He was overheard one day to 
say, in opposing some of the duke's hasty counsels, " Brother, 
I am too old to go again to my travels ; you may, if you 
choose it." It is even said that Charles meditated giving 
more freedom to his subjects, and summoning a new Par- 
liament, when he was suddenly seized with a fit resembling 
apoplexy, and after languishing for a few days he expired, on 
the 6th of February, 1685, in the fifty-fifth year of his age, 
and twenty-fiftli of his reign ; but according to Burnet and 
many other writers, not without a suspicion of poison. Indeed 
Burnet says that the Duchess of Portsmouth confessed that he 
wjis poisoned. Welwood states that this suspicion acquired 
weight from the following incident, which befel the king a few 
years before his death. One evening at Windsor, having drunk 
more liberally than usually, Charles retired from the company 
to the next room, where, wrapping himself in his cloak, he fell 
asleep upon a couch. A short time afterwards he arose and 
returned to the company, when a servant lay down upon the 
same couch, in the king's cloak, and was found stabbed dead 
with a poniard. The matter was hushed, and no inquiry was 
made ; nor was it ever known how it hapiiened. Hume, how- 
ever, observes, " that this suspicion must be allowed to vanish 
like many others, of which all histories are full." 

Of the circumstances attending Charles's last illness, Evelyn 
relates the following: — •'Feb. 4, 1675, I went to London, 
hearing that his majesty, on the Monday before (Feb 2), had 
been surprised in his bedchamber by an apoplectic fit, so that 
if, by God's providence. Dr. King had not been accidentally 
present to let him blood, his majesty had certainly died that 
moment. It was a mark of the extraordinary dexterity, reso- 



CHARLES II. 445 

lution, and presence of mind of the doctor, to let iiim blood in 
the very paroxysm, without staying the coming of the other 
physicians, which regularly should have been done, and for 
want of which he must have a regular pardon (which was 
afterwards granted). This rescued his majesty for the instant, 
but it was a short reprieve. On Wednesday he was cupped, 
let blood in both jugulars, had both vomit and purges, which 
so relieved him that on Thursday hopes of recovery were sig- 
nified in the public Gazette. The same day the physicians 
thought him feverish, so they prescribed him the famous 
Jesuit powder, but it made him worse. Thus he passed 
Thursday night with great difficulty, when, complaining of a 
pain in his side, they drew twelve ounces more blood from 
him ; this was by six in the morning on Friday, and it gave 
him relief, but it did not continue, for being now in much 
pain, and struggling for breath, he lay dosing, and after some 
conflicts, the physicians despairing of him, he gave up the 
ghost at half an hour after eleven in the morning, being the 
6th of February, 1685. 

" Prayers were solemnly made in all the churches, especi- 
ally the court chapels, where the chaplains relieved one 
another every half-quarter of an hour from the time he began 
to be in danger till he expired. Those who assisted his 
majesty's devotions were, the Archbishop of Canterbury, the 
Bishops of London, Durham, and Ely, but more especially 
Dr. Ken, the Bishop of Bath and Wells. It is said they 
exceedingly urged upon him the receiving the Holy Sacra- 
ment, but his majesty told them he would consider of it, 
which he did so long till it was to late. Others whispered 
that the bishops and lords, except the Earls of Bath and 
Feversham, being ordered to withdraw the night before, 
Hurlston (Huddleston) the priest had presumed to administer 
the popish offices. He gave his breeches and keys to the 
Duke of York, who was almost continually kneeling by his 
bed-side, and in tears. He also recommended to him the care 
of his natural children, all except the Duke of Monmouth, now 
in Holland, and in his displeasure. He entreated the queen 
to pardon him (not without cause) ; who a little before had 
sent a bishop to excuse her not more frequently visiting him, 
on account of her excessive grief, and withal that his majesty 



44 G PERSONAL III.STOUV OF 

would forgive her if ut any time she had offended him. ' Alas ! 
poor lady/ exclaimed Charles, ' she bc<^ my pardon ! I beg hers, 
with all my heart.' lie sj)ake to the Duke of York to be 
kind to the Duchess of Cleveland, and especially Portsmouth, 
and added, ' Let not poor Nelly sta^rve/" 

A page or two further, Evelyn remarks, " I can never forget 
the inexpressible luxury and profaneness, gaming, and all dis- 
soluteness, and as it were total forgetfulness of Cod (it being 
Sunday evening) which this day se'nnight I was witness of, 
the king sitting and toying with his concubines, Portsmouth, 
Cleveland, Mazarine, etc., a French boy singing love songs 
in that glorious gallery, whilst about twenty of the great 
courtiers and other dissolute persons were at basset round a 
large table, a bank of at least 2,000/. in gold before them, upon 
which two gentlemen who were with me made reflections in 
astonishment. Six days after all was in the dust 1 " 

Several other contemporary writers have described the death, 
but with some slight differences, agreeing in the main points. 
Burnet, however adds, that the Duchess of Portsmouth at- 
tended him, '' taking care of him as a wife of a husband." 

Cliarles had no children by his queen, but by his mistresses 
he left a numerous progeny. By Lucy Walters he had James, 
Duke of Monmouth, born at liotterdam, in 1649 ; also a 
<laughter, Mary, married first to Mr. William Sarsfield, of 
Ireland, and afterwards to William Fanshaw, Esq. By Lady 
Castlemaine, afterwards Duchess of Cleveland, he had six 
children, viz. Charles Fitzroy, Duke of Southampton ; Henry 
Fitzroy, Duke of Grafton ; George Fitzroy, Duke of Nor- 
thumberland ; Charlotte Fitzroy, married to Sir Edward 
Harry Lee, of Ditchley, Oxon ; the Countess of Sussex ; and 
Barbara, who became a nun at Pontoise. By Nell Gwynn 
]ie had Charles Beauclcrc, Duke of St. Alban's ; and a son, 
James J3eauclerc, who died young. By Louisa Querouaille, 
.iftcrwards Duchess of Portsmouth, he had Charles Lennox, 
Duke of Richmond. By Mary Davis he had Mary Tudor, 
married to Lord Ratcliffe, the son and heir of Francis, Earl 
of Derwentwater. By Catharine Peg, he had Charles Fitz 
Charles, who died at Tangier; and a daughter who died in 
infancy. By Elizal)cth, Viscountess Shannon, he had Char- 
^itte Boyle, alias Fitzroy; married first, James Howard, 



CHARLES II. 447 

grandson of tlie Earl of Suffolk, and afterwards to Sir Ko- 
hert Yaston, Bart., created Earl of Yarmouth. 



The following anecdotes respecting the merry monarch and 
his courtiers, gleaned from various contemporary writers, 
may not be thought inappropriate addenda to the preceding 
sketch ; — 

Charles having been accustomed during his exile to live 
amongst his courtiers more as a companion than a monarch, he 
still preserved an easy familiarity with all around him, which, 
combined with his love of gossiping, has not a little contributed 
to the innumerable stories of his wit and humour which are 
still preserved. Burnet says he was very fond of relating his 
adventures in Paris and Scotland, but would repeat them so 
frequently as to draw down the following severe jest from 
the Earl of Rochester. He said, *' he wondered to see a man 
have so good a memory as to repeat the same story without 
losing the least circumstance, and yet not remember that he 
had told it to the same persons the very day before." 

According to Burnet he was an inveterate pedestrian, and 
would walk so fast that it was a trouble to keep up with him ; 
and his brother, the Duke of York, w^as equally as fond of 
being on horseback, Anthony Wood relates that on one occa- 
sion Prince George of Denmark, who had married the king's 
niece (afterwards Queen Anne), complained to him that he 
was growing very fat. "Walk with me," said Charles, 
''hunt with my brother, and do justice to my niece, and you 
vrill not long be distressed hy growing fat." 

Charles was also extremely fond of sauntering in St. James's 
Park, where he would feed the birds, with which it was well 
stocked, with his own hands; and on these occasions very 
much preferred being attended by only one or two of his per- 
sonal friends, rather than by a retinue. Dr. King says, that 
once, when attended by only two noblemen, he met the Duke 
of York, who had been hunting on Hounslow Heath, and 
was returning in his coach surrounded by his guards. The 
duke instantly alighted, and expressed his fears that the 
king's life might be endangered by so small an attendance. 



44S PERSONAL UISTOKY OF 

••*• No kiucl of dcanger, James," said Charles ; " for no man in 
England will take away my life to make you king." 

There is, however, an instance on record of his not always 
treating the danger of assassiniition with so much levity. One 
day his havhcr, while shaving him, hazarded, with his usual 
familiarity, the following remark; "1 consider that none of 
your majesty's officers have a greater trust than I." " How 
.<o, friend ?" quoth the king. " Why," said the barber, '^ I 
could cut your majesty's throat whenever I liked." Charles 
started up at the idea, and using his favourite oath, exclaimed, 
'^ Odds ficdi, the very thought is treason ! you shall shave me 
no more." 

Evelyn tells us that ^' he took great delight in having a 
number of little spaniels follow him and lie in his bedchamber, 
wdiere he often suffered the bitches to puppy and give suck, 
which rendered it very offensive, and made the w^hole court 
nastv and stinkinf^" Indeed his fondness for these animals 
w-as so extraordinary, that rewards were constantly being 
offered for the king's dogs stolen or strayed from Whitehall. 
(This breed is now being called King Charles's breed.) 

The Earl of St. Alban's, secretary to Queen Henrietta 
]\Iaria in all her misfortunes, found himself at the Restoration 
in a very indifferent condition. Happening one day to make 
a party of pleasure with his majesty, w^here all distinctions 
were laid aside, a stranger came with an importunate suit for 
an employment just vacant, of considerable value. The king 
ordered him to be admitted, and the earl to personate his 
majesty. The gentleman made his addresses accordingly^, 
enumerated his services to the royal family, and hoped such a 
place would not be thought too great a reward for them. 
"By no means," replied the earl, "but as soon as I heard of 
the vacancy I conferred it on my faithful friend the Earl of 
St. Alban's (pointing at the king), who has constantly followed 
the fortunes of my father and myself, but hitherto gone unre- 
warded." The gentleman withdrew, and Charles, after a 
liearty laugh at the jest, confirmed the grant. 

Granger relates, that William Penn, the Quaker and Penn- 
syivanian legislator, on one occasion had an audience with 
Charles, and, with the true spirit of his sect, kept his hat on. 
As a gentle rebuke, Ciiarles quietly took off his hat and stood 



CHARLES II. 449 

uncovered before him. " Friend Charles/* said Penn, " why 
dost thou not keep on thy hat?" "Tis the custom' of this 
pkce," replied the king, "for only one person to remain 
covered at a time." 

Charles more than once dined with the good citizens of 
London on their Lord Mayor's day, and did so the year Si: 
Eobert Yiner was mayor. Sir Robert was a very loyal man* 
and, if you will allow the expression, very fond^of his sove- 
reign ; but what with the joy he felt at heart for the honour 
done him by his prince, and the warmth he was in with 
continual toasting healtlis to the royal family, his lordship 
grew a little too fond of his majesty, and entered into a fami- 
liarity not altogether graceful in so public a place. The king 
understood very well how to extricate himself in all such 
difficulties, and with a hint to the company to avoid cere- 
mony, stole off, and made towards his coach, which stood 
ready for him in Guild-hall yard. But the mayor liked his 
company so well, and was grown so intimate, that he pursued 
hmi hastily, and catching him fast by the hand, cried out with 
a vehement oath and accent, " Sir, you shall stay and take 
t'other bottle." The airy monarch looked kindly at him over 
his shoulder, and with a smile and graceful air" repeated this 
line of the old song : 

^* He that's drunk is as great as a king/' 

and immediately returned back and complied with his host's 
invitation. 

On another occasion Gregorio Leti, a voluminous historical 
writer, who had been promised the place of historiographer to 
the English court, was introduced to Charles, and graciously 
received by him. One day at his levee the king said to him, 
" Leti, I hear that you are writing the history of the Court of 
England." Leti acknowledged that he was collecting mate- 
rials for such a work. "Take care, then," said the kino^, 
" that it gives no offence." " Sir," replied Leti, " I will do 
what I can, but if a man were as wise as Solomon, he would 
scarcely be able to avoid giving offence." "Why, then/' 
rejoined the king, " be as wise as Solomon ; write proverbs^ 
not histories/' 

2 G 



450 PERSONAL HISTORY OP 

Charles employed Sir Clirlstopber Wren to build a palace 
for him at Newmarket, and in the course of a conversation 
with him, he complained of the small size of the rooms. 
Wren, who was a short man, glanced consequentially round 
the apartment ; " I think," he said, "if it please your majesty, 
they are high enough/' Charles squatted down to Wren's 
height, and creeping about in this ridiculous posture, " Ay," 
he said, " I think now. Sir Christopher, they are high enough." 

In the Richardsoniana is given the following account of the 
origin of the king's nickname of Rowley : " There was an old 
goat that used to run about the Privy- garden, to which they 
had given this name ; a rank lecherous devil, that everybody 
knew and used to stroke, because he was good-humoured and 
familiar; and so they applied this name to Charles." One 
evening Charles heard one of the maids of honour singing a 
ballad in their apartments, in which old Rowley was men- 
tioned in a rather unpleasant manner. After listening for a 
few moments he knocked at the door. " Who is there ?'' cried 
jVIiss Howard, who turned out to be the vocalist. " Only old 
Rowley," was the good-natured reply. 

Charles enjoyed a practical joke. On one of his birth- 
days, a pick-pocket had obtained admittance to the drawing- 
room, disguised in the dress of a gentleman, and commenced 
the practice of his profession by extracting a gold snufF-box 
from a nobleman's pocket. Scarcely had he done so when 
he saw the king looking at him ; but knowing Charles's 
disposition, he had the consummate impudence to put his 
finger to his nose, and wink knowingly at his majesty to hold 
liis tongue. A £ew moments afterwards, by which time the 
tiiief had made off, the king was exceedingly amused by per- 
ceiving the nobleman feeling his pockets for the box. At 
length he could resist no longer, and called out to the victim, 
" You need not trouble yourself, my lord ; your box is gone, 
and I am an accomplice in the theft ; the rascal made me his 
confidant !" 

When Charles ascended the tlirone, one of his first acts of 
generosity was to send a grant of 10,000 acres of land to Lord 
Clarendon, which the latter at first declined, on account of the 
envy it would excite. When the king was told of it he said, 



CHARLES II. 451 

*' My Lord Chancellor is a fool for all his wise head ; does he 
not know that it is better to be envied than pitied ?" 

Lord Keeper Guildford said, that Charles was better ac- 
quainted with foreign affairs than all his ministers put together; 
because, whether drunk or sober, he made a point of convers- 
ing with every eminent foreigner that visited England ; and 
though notoriously unreserved himself, he could generally dis- 
cover the secrets of others. The Duke of Buckingham said^ 
that " Charles could have been a great king if he would, and 
that James would if he could." 

To Charles's partiality for his graceful and accomplished 
cousin, Frances Stuart, we owe the elegant representation of 
Britannia on oui copper coin. She is said to have been the 
only woman with whom the king was ever really in love, and 
it was from one of the medals struck to perpetuate his admira- 
tion of her delicate symmetry, that Britannia was stamped 
in. the form she still bears on our halfpence and farthings. 
Guineas were introduced in the reign of Charles, and received 
this appellation from their having been made of the gold-dust 
brought from the coast of Guinea by Sir Robert Holmes. 

In the Secret History of Whitehall, it is said that when Sir 
John Warner turned Papist he retired to a convent, and his 
uncle. Dr. Warner, who was the king's physician, pressed his 
majesty to order the Attorney- General to proceed at law for 
securing his estate to him, as next male, upon an apprehen- 
sion that Sir John might convert it to popish uses. Charles 
said to him, " Sir John at present is one of God Almighty's 
fools, but it will not be long before he returns to his estate, 
and enjoys it himself." 

During the debate in Parliament, on a bill for disabling 
all Papists from holding any court place or employment, the 
king was supposed to speak through the Earl of Shaftesbury, 
then Lord Chancellor, whilst his brother the Duke of York 
was represented by Clifford, then Lord Treasurer. On one 
occasion, the Lord Treasurer having made a violent speech in 
the House of Lords, he was unexpectedly opposed by Shaftes- 
bury, who smartly answered all that he said from the be- 
ginning to the end. Charles and his brother were botn 
present, and the latter beginning to get excessively angry, 
at length whispered the king, " What a rogue you have of 

2 G 2 



452 PERSONAL HISTORY OF 

a Lord Chauccllor ;" to whicli Charles replied, "and what i\ 
fool i/o?t have of a Lord Treasurer." 

Charles never lost his aftability and courtesy. He touched 
people for the evil without evincing either nausea, or a tempta- 
tion to mirth. But on solemn occasions he could never play 
the king. He read his speeches to Parliament like a school- 
boy. At church he could never preserve his gravity, and 
would dally with Lady Castlemaine through the curtains 
which divided the royal box from the ladies* pew. If he saw 
an acquaintance at play, in the park, or even in a state pro- 
cession, he would nod to him with the easy familiarity of an 
equal ; and if the gentleman happened to have a handsome 
wife with him, he would cast on the husband a glance of sig- 
nificant meaning. Sometimes after perhaps he had ordered his 
coach and guards to be ready to conduct him to the park, he 
would call for a sculler and a pair of oars, and row himself 
down to Somerset House, to visit the Duchess of Richmond ; 
and if \ie did not find the garden-door open, he would clamber 
over the wall. At the council he would jest instead of minding 
business, and play with his dogs. His ordinary amusements 
were playing at tennis, and weighing himself afterwards — 
sauntering in the Mall, or idling away his mornings at the 
toilette of his favourites — dancing wdiole nights, and, occasion- 
ally, getting very drunk, hearing anthems in his chapel, and 
keeping time to the music with his head and hands — visiting 
the Tower or the Docks — going to the play and ogling the 
handsome women — and, in lack of all other amusements, 
gossiping with everybody, telling long stories of the French 
and Spanish courts, and, like good old Kent, " marring a 
curious tale in telling it." 

" It was Charles the Second," says Spcnce, " who gave 
Dryden the hint for writing his poem, called ' The Medal.' 
One day, as the king was walking in the Mall, and talking 
with Dryden, he said, ' If I was a poet, and I think I am poor 
cnouirh to 1)0 one, I would write a poem on such a subject, in 
the following inanner ;' and then gave him the plan of it. 
Dryden took the hint, carried the poem as soon as written to 
the king, and had a present of a hundred broad pieces for his 
pains.** 

Though Charles possessed lut little religion, he does not 



CHARLES ir. 453 

appear to have been a disbeliever. In Dr. Birch's MSS. we 
are told, that on one occasion the Duke of Buckingham having 
spoken profanely before him, the king administered to him the 
following reproof. " My lord," he said, '' I am a great deal 
older than your grace, and have heard more arguments for 
atheism ; but I have since lived long enough to see that there 
is nothing in them, and I hope your grace will.'' On another 
occasion, speaking of the credulous but learned Yossius, who 
was a free-thinker, Charles said, that ''he refused to believe 
nothing but the bible." 



il 



AN ACCOUNT 

OF 

HIS MATES TrS ESCAPE FROM WORCESTER, 

DICTATED TO MR. PEPYS BY THE KING HIMSELF. 



Newmarket, 
Sunday, Oct, Srd, and Tuesday^ Oct, bthy 1680. 

After that the battle was so absolutely lost, as to be 
beyond hope of recovery, I began to think of the best way 
of saving myself; and the first thought that came into my 
head was, that, if I could possibly, I would get to London, 
as soon, if not sooner, than the news of our defeat could get 
thither : and it being near dark, I talked with some, espe- 
cially with my Lord Kochester, who was then Wilmot, about 
their opinions, which would be the best way for me to escape, 
it being impossible, as I thought, to get back into Scotland. 
I found them mightily distracted, and their opinions diflferent, 
of the possibility of getting to Scotland, but not one agreeing 
with mine, for going to London, saving my Lord Wilmot ; 
and the truth is, I did not impart my design of going to 
London to any but my Lord Wilmot. But we had such a 
number of beaten men with us, of the horse, that I strove, 
as soop as ever it was dark, to get from them ; and though I 
could not get them to stand by me against the enemy, I could 
not get rid of them, now I had a mind to it. 

So we, that is, my Lord Duke of Buckingham, Lauder- 
dale, Derby, Wilmot, Tom Blague, Duke Darcey, and 
several others of my servants, went along northward towards 
Scotland ; and at last we got about sixty that were gentlemeu 



456 KING CirARLES's ESCAPE 

and officers, and slipped away out of the high road that goes to 
Lancastershire, and kept on the right hand, letting all the 
hcaten men go along the great road, and ourselves not know- 
ing very well which way to go, for it was then too late for 
us to get to London, on horseback, riding directly for it, nor 
could we do it, because there was yet many people of quality 
with us that I could not get rid of. 

So we I'^de through a town short of Woolverhampton, 
betwixt thaV and Worcester, and went through, there lying a 
troop of the' enemies there that night. We rode very 
quietly througl^ the tow^n, they having nobody to watch, nor 
they suspecting! us no more than we did them, which I 
learned afterwards from a country fellow. 

We went that night about twenty miles, to a place called 
White Ladys, hard by Tong Castle, by the advice of Mr. 
Giftard, w^here we stopped, and got some little refreshment 
of bread and cheese, such as we could get, it being just be- 
ginning to be day. This White Ladys was a private house 
that Mr. GifFard, who was a Staffordshire man, had told me 
belonged to honest people that lived thereabouts.* 

* S. Pepys, desiring to know from Fathef Hodlestone what he knew 
touching the brotherhood of the Penderells, as to the names and qualities 
of each of the brothers, he answered, that he was not very perfect in 
it, but that, as far as he could recollect, thev were thus, viz. : — 

1st. William, the eldest, who lived at Boscobel. 

2nd. John, who lived at White Ladies, a kind of woodward there, all 
the brothers living in the wood, having little farms there, and labouring 
for their living, in cutting down of wood, and watching the wood from 
being stolen ; having tlie benefit of some cow-grass to live on. Father 
Hodlestone farther told me, that here lived one Mr. Walker, an old gen- 
tleman, a priest, whither the poor Catholics in that neighbourhood re- 
sorted for devotion, and whom Father Hodlestone used now and then to 
visit, and say prayers, and do holy offices with. Upon which score it 
was, that John Penderell happened to know him in the high-way, when 
the said John Penderell was looking out for a hiding-place for my Lord 
Wilmot. This John was he, as Father Hodlestone snys, that took the 
most pains of all the brothers. 

3rd. Richard, commonly called among them Trusty Richard, who 
lived the same kind of life with the rest. 

4th. Humphrey, a miller, wlio has a son at thi:, day (1680) footman to 
the queen, to be heard of at Somerset House. 

5th. George, another brother, who was in some degree, less or more, 
as he remembers, employed in this service. He thinks there was a sixth 
brother, but of that is not certain. //. 



niOM WORCESTER. 457 

And just as we came thither, there came in a country 
fellow, that told us, there were three thousand of our horse 
just hard by Tong Castle, upon the heath, all in disorder, 
under David Leslie, and some other of the general officers : 
upon which there were some of the people of quality that 
were with me, who were very earnest that I should go to 
him and endeavour to go into Scotland ; which I thought was 
absolutely impossible, knowing very well that the country 
would all rise upon us, and that men who had deserted me 
when they were in good order, would never stand to me 
V, hen they have been beaten. 

This made me take the resolution of putting myself into a 
disguise, and endeavouring to get a-foot to London, in a 
country fellow's habit, with a pair of ordinary grey cloth 
breeches, a leathern doublet, and a green jerkin, which I 
took in the house of White Ladys. I also cut my hair very 
short, and flung my clothes into a privy-house, that nobody 
might see that anybody had been stripping themselves."^' I 
acquainting none with my resolution of going to London but 
my Lord Wilmot, they all desiring me not to acquaint them 
with what I intended tg do, because they knew not what they 

* There were six brothers of the Penderells, who all of them knew the 
secret ; and (as I have since learned from one of them) the man in whose 
house I changed my clothes came to one of them about two days after, 
and asking him where I was, told him that they might get 1,000/. if they 
would tell, because there was that sum laid upon my head. But this 
Penderell was so honest, that though he at that time knew where I was, 
he bade him have a care of what he did ; for, that I being gone out of aU 
reach, if they should now discover I had ever been there, they would get 
nothing but hanging for their pains. I would not change my clothes at 
any of the Penderell's houses, because I meant to make further use of 
them, and they might be suspected ; but rather chose to do it in a house 
where they were not Papists, I neither knowing them, nor, to this day, 
what the man was at whose house I did it. But the Penderells have since 
endeavoured to mitigate the business of their being tempted by their 
neighbour to discover me ; but one of them did certainly declare it to me 
at that time. iT. 

Concerning one Yates, that married a sister of one of tlie Penderells, 
Father Hodlestone says, he has heard, that the old coarse shirt which 
the king had on did belong to him ; and consequently that the king did 
shift himself at his house ; but believes that the rest of the king's clothes 
were William Penderell's, he being a tall man, and the breeches the king 
had on being very long at the knees. H. 



458 KING CUARLESS ESCAPE 

might bo forced to confess ; on which consideration, they? 
with one voice, begged of me not to tell them what I in- 
tended to do. 

So all the i^ersons of quality and officers who were with 
me (except my Lord Wilmot, with whom a place was agreed 
upon for our meeting at London, if we escaped, and who 
endeavoured to go on horseback, in regard, as I think, of his 
being too big to go on foot), were resolved to go and join 
with the three thousand disordered horse, thinking to get 
away with them to Scotland. But, as I did before believe, 
they were not marched six miles, after they got to them, but 
they were all routed by a single troop of horse ; which shews 
that my opinion was not wrong in not sticking to men who 
had run away. 

As soon as I was disguised I took with me a country 
fellow, whose name was Richard Penderell, whom Mr. 
Giffard had undertaken to answer for, to be an honest man. 
He was a Roman Catholic, and I chose to trust them, because 
I knew they had hiding-holes for priests, that I thought I 
might make use of in case of need. 

I was no sooner gone (being the next morning after the 
battle, and then broad day) out of the house with this 
country fellow, but, being in a great wood, I set myself at 
the edge of the wood, near the highway that was there, the 
better to see who came after us, and whether they made any 
search after the runaways, and I immediately saw a troop of 
horse coming by, which I conceived to be the same troop that 
beat our three thousand horse ; but it did not look like a 
troop of the army's, but of the militia, for the fellow before it. 
did not look at all like a soldier. 

In this wood I staid all day, without meat or drink ; and 
by great good fortune it rained all the time, which hindered 
them, as I believe, from coming into the wood to search for 
men that might be fled thither. And one thing is remark- 
able enough, that those with whom I have since spoken, of 
them that joined witli the horse upon the heath, did say, that 
it rained little or nothing with them all the day, but only in 
the wood where I was, this contributing to my safety. 

As I was in the wood, I talked with the fellow about 
getting towards London and asking him many questions 



FROM WOHCESTER, 459 

about what gentlemen lie knew ; I did not find that he knew 
any man of quality in the way towards London. And the 
truth is, my mind changed as I lay in the wood, and I re- 
solved of another way of making my escape ; which was, to 
get over the Severn into Wales, and so to get either to 
Swansea or some other of the sea-towns that I knew had 
commerce with France, to the end I might get over that way, 
as being a way that I thought none would suspect my taking ; 
besides that, I remembered several honest gentlemen that 
were of my acquaintance in Wales. 

So that night, as soon as it was dark, Richard Penderell 
and I took our jo urney on foot towards the Severn, intending 
to pass over a ferry, half-way between Bridgenorth and 
Shrewsbury. But as we were going in the night, we came 
by a mill where I heard some people talking (Memorandum, 
that I had got some bread and cheese the night before at one 
of the Penderells' houses, I not going in), and as we con- 
ceived, it was about twelve or one o'clock at night, and the 
country fellow desired me not to answer if anybody should 
ask me any questions, because I had not the accent of the 
country. 

Just as we came to the mill, we could see the miller, as I 
believed, sitting at the mill door, he being in white clothes, it 
being a very dark night. He called out, " Who goes there ?"' 
Upon which Kichard Penderell answered, '' Neighbours going 
home," or some such like words. Whereupon the miller 
cried out, " If you be neighbours, stand, or I will knock you 
down." Upon which, we believing there was company in the 
house, the fellow bade me follow him close ; and he ran to 
a gate that went up a dirty lane, up a hill, and opening the 
gate, the miller cried out, '' Rogues, rogues'." And there- 
upon some men came out of the mill after us, which I 
believed was soldiers : so we fell a-running, both of us, up 
the lane, as long as we could run, it being very deep, and 
very dirty, till at last I bade him leap over a hedge, and lie 
still to hear if anybody followed us; which we did, and 
continued lying down upon the ground about half an hour, 
when, hearing nobody come, we continued our way on to the 
village upon the Severn ; where the fellow told me there was 
an honest gentleman, one Mr. Wooife. that lived in that 



460 KING Charles's escape 

town,* where I might be with great safety; for tliat he had 
hiding-holes for priests. But I would not go in till I knew 
a little of his mind, whether he would receive so dangerous a 
guest as me, and therefore staid in a field, under a hedge, 
l)j a great tree, commanding him not to say it w^as I ; but 
only to ask Mr. Woolfe, wdiether he would receive an Eng- 
lish gentleman, a person of quality, to hide him the next day, 
till we could travel again by night, for I durst not go but by 
night. 

Mr. Woolfe, when the country fellow told him that it was 
one that had escaped from the battle of Worcester, said, that 
for his part, it was so dangerous a thing to harbour anybody 
that was known, that he would not venture his neck for any 
man, unless it were the king himself. Upon which Richard 
Penderell very indiscreetly, and without any leave, told him 
that it w^as I. Upon which Mr. Woolfe replied, that he 
should be very ready to venture all he had in the world to 
secure me. Upon which Richard Penderell came and told 
me what he had done. At which I was a little troubled, but 
then there was no remedy, the day being just coming on, and 
I must either venture that, or run some greater danger. 

So I came into the house a back way, w^here I found Mr. 
AYoolfe, an old gentleman, who told me he was very sorry to 
see me there ; because there was two companies of the militia 
foot, at that time, in arms in the town, and kept a guard at 
the ferry, to examine everybody that came that way, in 
expectation of catching some that might be making their 
escape that way ; and that he durst not put me into any of the 
hiding-holes of his house, because they had been discovered, 
and, consequently, if any search should be made, Ihey would 
certainly repair to these holes ; and that therefore I had no 
other way of security but to go into his barn, and there lie 
behind his corn and hay. So after he had given us some 
cold meat, that was ready, we, without making any bustle in 
the house, went and lay in the barn all the next day ; when 
towards evening, his son, who had been prisoner at Shrews • 
bury, an honest man, was released, and came home to his 
father's house. And as soon as ever it began to be a little 

* Mr. Francis Woolfe lived at Madely. //. 



FROM WORCESTER. 46 1 

darkish, Mr. Woolfe and his son brought ns meat into the 
barn ; and there we discoursed with them, whether we might 
safely get over the Severn into Wales ; which they advised 
me by no means to adventure upon, because of the strict 
guards that were kept all along the Severn, where any pas- 
sage could be found, for preventing anybody's escaping that 
way into Wales. 

Upon this I took resolution of going that night the very 
same way back again to PenderelFs house, where I knew I 
should hear some news, what was become of my Lord Wilmot, 
and resolved again upon going for London. 

So we set out as soon as it was dark. But, as we came 
by the mill again, we had no mind to be questioned a second 
time there ; and therefore, asking Richard Penderell whether 
he could swim or no, and how deep the river was, he told 
me it was a scurvy river, not easy to be passed in all places, 
and that he could not swim. So I told him, that the river 
being but a little one, I would undertake to help him over. 
Upon which we went over some closes to the river side, and 
I entering the river first, to see whether I could myself go 
over, who knew how to swim, found it was but a little above 
my middle ; and thereupon taking Richard Penderell by the 
hand I helped him over. 

Which being done, we went on our way to one of Pen- 
derelFs brothers (his house being not far from White Ladys), 
who had been guide to my Lord Wilmot, and we believed 
might, by that time, be come back again ; for my Lord 
Wilmot intended to go to London upon his own horse. 
When I came to this house, I inquired where my Lord 
Wilmot was; it being now towards morning, and having 
travelled these two nights on foot, PenderelFs brother told 
me that he had conducted him to a very honest gentleman's 
house, one Mr. Pitchcroft, * not far from Woolverhamp- 

* The king is mistaken in calling Mr. Whitgrave Mr. Pitchcroft. 
Pitchcroft is the name of a very large meadow contiguous to the city of 
Worcester, where part of the king's troops lay on the night before the 
battle ; and which his majesty might have a distant view of, from the top 
of the tower of the cathedral, where he held a council just before the 
unfortunate engagement. It is not to be wondered at, if, after the inter- 
val of twenty-nine years, the king should mistake the name of a place for 
the name of a person. P. 



402 KING CHAULES'S ESCAPE 

toil,* a Hoiiiaii Ciitliollc. I asked him what news? lie told 
me that there was one Major Careless in the house that was 
that countryman ; whom I knowing, he having heen a major in 
our army, and made his escape thither, a lloman Catholic 
also, I sent for him into the room where I was, and con- 
sulting with him what we should do the next day, he told 
me that it would be very dangerous for me either to stay in 
that house, or to go into the wood, there being a great wood 
hard by Boscobel ; that he knew but one way how to pass 
the next day, and that was, to get up into a great oak, in a 
})retty plain place, where we might see round about us ; for 
the enemy would certainly search at the wood for people that 
had made their escape. Of which proposition of his I ap- 
proving, we (that is to say, Careless and I) went, and carried 
up with us some victuals for the whole day, viz., bread, 
cheese, small beer, and nothing else, and got up into a great 
oak, that had been lopped some three or four years before, 
and being grown out again, very bushy and thick, could not 
be seen through, and here we staid all the day. I having, 
in the meantime, sent Penderell's brother to Mr. Pitchcroft's, 
to know whether my Lord Wilmot was there or no ;t and 
had word brought me by him, at night, that my lord was 
there ; that there was a very secure hiding-hole in Mr. 
Pitchcroft's house, and that he desired me to come thither to 
him. 

Memorandum — That while we were in this tree we see 
soldiers going up and down, in the thicket of the wood, 
searching for persons escaped, we seeing them, now and then, 
peeping out of the wood. 

That night Richard Penderell and I went to Mr. Pitch- 
croft's, about six or seven miles off, where I found the gentle- 
man of the house, and an old grandmother of his, and Father 
Hurlston,:}: who had then the care, as governor, of bringing 

* Mr. Whitgrave lived at Mosely. H. 

t I did not depend npon finding Lord Wilmot, but sent only to know 
what was become of him ; for he and I had agreed to raeet at Lon- 
don, at the Three Cranes in the Vintry, and to inquire for Will. Ash- 
burnam. K. 

X His name is Hodlestone, and his grandfather was half-brother, by a 
second venter, to Sir William Hodlestone, who, with eight brothers, 
raised two regiments for the king, and served with them. Father Ho- 
dlestone 



FROM WORCESTER. 463 

up two young gentlemen, who I think were Sir John Preston 
and his brother, they being boys.* 

Here I spoke with my Lord Wilmot, and sent him away 
to Colonel Lane's,t about five or six miles off, to see what 
means could be found for my escaping towards London ; who 
told my lord, after some consultation thereon, that he had a 
sister that had a very fair pretence of going hard by Bristol, 
to a cousin of hers, that was married to one Mr. Norton, 
who lived two or three miles towards Bristol, on Somerset- 
shire side, and she might carry me thither as her man ; and 
from Bristol I might find shipping to get out of England. :|: 

So the next night § I went away to Colonel Lane's, where 
I changed my clothes || into a little better habit, like a 

dlestone observes, very particularly, as one extraordinary instance of 
God's providence in this affair, the contingency of his first meeting with 
John Penderell, occasioned by one Mr. Garret's coming, the Thursday 
after the fight, out of Warwickshire, from Mrs. Morgan, grandmother to 
little Sir John Preston, with some new linen for Sir John, and some for 
Father Hodlestone himself, namely, six new shirts, one whereof he gave 
to the king, and another to my Lord Wilmot. H. 

* This Sir John Preston's father was Sir John Preston, who raised a 
regiment for the king, and for so doing had his estate given away by the 
Parliament to Pen. This Sir John Preston, the son, is since dead, and his 
estate fallen to his brother. Sir Thomas Preston, mentioned in Oates's 
narrative of the plot, who married my Lord Molineux his daughter, by 
whom he had two daughters, great heiresses, himself being become a 
Jesuit. P. 

f Colonel Lane lived at Bentley. H, 

J The king, after having changed his linen and stockings at Mr. 
Whitegrave's, said, that he found himself at more ease, was fit for a new 
march, and if it would please God ever to bless him with ten or twelve 
thousand men of a mind, and resolved to fight, he should not doubt but to 
drive those rogues out of the land. U. 

§ I think I staid two days at Pitchcroft's [Whitgrave's], but Father 
Hurlstone can tell better than I. K. 

II The habit that the king came in to Father Hodlestone, was a very 
greasy old grey steeple-crowned hat, with the brims turned up, without 
lining or hatband, the sweat appearing two inches deep through it, round 
the band-place ; a green cloth jump coat, threadbare, even to the threads 
being worn white, and breeches of the same, with long knees down to the 
garter ; with an old sweaty leathern doublet, a pair of white flannel stock- 
ings next to his Jegs, which the king said were his boot stockings, their 
tops being cut off" to prevent their being discovered, and upon them a 
pair of old green yarn stockings, all worn and darned at the knees, with 

their 



4G4 KING CIIAULESS ESCAPE 

serving-nian, being a kind of grey cloth suit ; and the next 
day Mrs. Lane and I took our journey towards Bristol, 
resolving to lie at a place called Long JMarson, in the vale of 
Esham. 

But wc had not gone two hours on our way but the mare 
I rode on cast a shoe ; so we were forced to ride to get 
another shoe at a scattering village, whose name begins with 

something like Long . And as I was holding my horse's 

foot, I asked the smith what news ? He told me that there 
was no news that he knew of, since the good news of the 
beating of the rogues the Scots. I asked him whether there 
was none of the English taken that joined with the Scots ? 
He answered, that he did not hear that that rogue Charles 
Stewart was taken ; but some of the others, he said, were 
taken, but not Charles Stewart. I told him, that if that 
rogue were taken he deserved to be hanged, more than all the 
rest, for bringing in the Scots. L^pon wdiich he said, that I 
spoke like an honest man, and so we parted. 

Here it is to be noted, that we had in companj'- with us 

Mrs. Lane's sister, who was married to one Mr. , she 

being then going to my Lord Paget's, hard by Windsor, so as 
we were to part, as accordingly we did, at Stratford-upon- 
Avon. 

But a mile before we came to Stratford-upon-Avon, we 

their feet cut off; which last he said he had of Mr.Wooife, who persuaded 
him thereto, to hide his other white ones, for fear of being observed ; his 
shoes were old, all slashed for the ease of his feet, and full of gravel, with 
little rolls of paper between his toes, which he said he was advised to, to 
keep them from galling ; he had an old coarse shirt, patched both at the 
neck and hands, of that very coarse sort which, in that country, go by 
the name of hogging-shirts ; which shirt, Father Hodlestone shifting 
from the king, by giving him one of his new ones. Father Hodlestone sent 
afterwards to Mr. Sherwood, now Lord Abbot of Lambspring in Ger- 
many, a person well known to the Duke [of York], who begged this 
shirt of Father Hodlestone ; his handkerchief was a very old one, 
torn, and very coarse, and being daubed with the king's blood from his 
nose. Father Hodlestone gave it to a kinswoman of his, one Mrs. Brath- 
wayte, who kept it with great veneration, as a remedy for the king's evil ; 
he had no gloves, but a long thorn-stick, not very strong, but crooked 
three or four several ways, in his hand ; his hair cut short up to his cars, 
and hands coloured ; liis majesty refusing to have any gloves, when Fa- 
ther Hodlestone offered him some, as also to change his stick. P, 



FROM AVORCESTEK. 



465 



espied upon the way a troop of horse,* whose riders were 
alighted, and the horses eating some grass by the way-side 
staying there, as I thought, while their muster-master was 
proyiding their quarters. Mrs. Lane's sister's husband, who 
went along with her as far as Stratford, seeing this troop 
of horse just m our way, said, that for his part, he would 
not go by them, for he had been once or twice beaten by 
some of the Parliament soldiers, and he would not run 
the venture again. I hearing him say so, begged Mrs. 
-Lane, softly m her ear, that we might not turn back, but go 
on, if they should see us turn. But all she could say in the 
world would not do, but her brother-in-law turned quite 
round, and went into Stratford another way. The trooD of 
horse being then just getting on horseback, about twice twelve 
scoi^e off, and, as I told her, we did meet the troop iust but 
m the town of Stratford. 

But then her brother and we parted, he going his way, and 
we ours, towards Long Marson, where we lay at a kinsman's, 
1 think, of Mrs. Lane s ; neither the said kinsman, nor her 
afore-mentioned brother-in-law, knowing who I was. 

The next night we lay at Cirencester; and so from thence 
to Mr. Norton's house, beyond Bristol, where, as soon as ever 
I came, Mrs. Lane called the butler of the house, a very 
honest fellow, whose name was Pope, and had served Tom 
Jermyn, a groom of my bedchamber, when I was a boy at 
llichmond; she bade him to take care of William Jackson, 
for that was my name, as having been lately sick of an ague, 
whereof she said I was still weak, and not quite recovered. 
And the truth is, my late fatigues, and want of meat, had 
indeed made me look a little pale ; besides this. Pope had 
been a trooper m the king my father's army; but I was not 
■to be known in that house for any thing but Mrs. Lane's 
servant. 

Memorandum— That one Mr. Lassells, a cousin of Mrs. 
Lane's, went all the way with us, from Colonel Lane's, on 
horseback, single, I riding before Mrs. Lane. 

Pope, the butler, took great care of me that night, I not 

* A poor old woman, that was gleaning in the field, cried out, of her 
own accord without occasion given her, ** Master, don't you see a troop 
of horse before you ?'' K, 

2 II 



466 KING CIIARLKSS ESCAPE 

eating, as I should have done, with the servants, upon account 
of ray not being well. 

The next morning I arose pretty early, having a very good 
stomach, and went to the buttery-hatch to get my breakfast ; 
where I found Pope and two or three other men in the room, 
and we all fell to eating bread and butter, to which he gave 
us very good ale and sack. And as I was sitting there, there 
was one that looked like a country fellow sat just by me, who, 
talking, gave so particular an account of the battle of Wor- 
cester to the rest o? the company, that I concluded he must 
be one of Cromwell's soldiers. But I asking him how he 
came to give so good an account of that battle, he told me 
he was in the king's regiment; by which I thought ho 
meant one Colonel King's regiment. But, questioning him 
further, I perceived that he had been in my regiment of guards, 
in Major Broughton*s company, that was my major in the 
battle. I asked him what a kind of man I was ? To which he 
answered by describing exactly both my clothes and my 
horse ; and then looking upon me, he told me that the king 
was at least three fingers taller than I. Upon which I made 
what haste I could out of the buttery, for fear he should 
indeed know me, as being more afraid when I knew he was 
one of our own soldiers, than when I took him for one of the 
enemy's. 

So Pope and I went into the hall, and just as we came 
into it Mrs. Norton was coming by through it ; upon which, 
I plucking oflf my hat, and standing with my hat in my 
hand, as she passed by, that Pope looked very earnestly in my 
face. But I took no notice of it, but put on my hat again, 
and went away, walking out of the house into the field. 

I had not been out half an hour, but coming back I w^ent 
up to the chamber where I lay; and just as I came tliither, 
Mr. Lassells came to me, and in a little trouble said, " What 
shall we do ! I am afraid Pope knows you ; for he says very 
positively to me that it is you, but I have denied it." Upon 
which I presently, w^ithout more ado, asked him whether he 
was a very honest man or no ? Whereto he answering me 
that he knew him to be so honest a fellow that he durst trust him 
with his life, as having been always on our side, I thought it 
better to trust him, than go away leaving that suspicion upon 



FROM WORCESTER. 467 

liim ; and thereupon sent for Pope, and told Lira, that I was 
very glad to meet him there, and would trust him with my 
life as an old acquaintance. Upon which, being a discreet 
fellow, he asked me what I intended to do ; for, says he, I 
am extremely happy I know you, for otherwise you might 
run great danger in this house. For though my master and 
mistress aro good people, yet there are at this time one or 
two in it that are very great rogues ; and I thmk I can be 
useful to you in any thing you will command me. Upon 
which I told him my design of getting a ship, if possible, at 
Bristol ; and to that end bade him go that very day imme- 
diately to Bristol, to see if there were any ships going either 
to Spain or France, that I might get a passage away in. 

I told him also that my Lord Wilmot was coming to meet 
me here ; for he and I had agreed at Colonel Lane's, and 
were to meet this very day at Norton's. Upon which Pope 
told me, that it was most fortunate that he knew me, and had 
heard this from me ; for that if my Lord Wilmot should have 
come hither, he would, have been most certainly known to 
several people in the house ; and therefore he would go. And 
accordingly went out, and met my Lord Wilmot a mile or two 
off the house, not far off, where he lodged him till it was 
night, and then brought him hither, by a back-door, into my 
chamber; I still passing for a serving-man, and Lassells and 
I lay in one chamber, he knowing all the way who I was. 

So after Pope had been at Bristol to inquire for a ship, 
"but could hear of none ready to depart beyond sea sooner 
than within a month, which was too long for me to stay 
thereabout, I betook myself to the advising afresh with my 
Lord Wilmot and Pope what was to be done. And the latter 
telling me that there lived somewhere in that country, upon 
the edge of Somersetshire, at Trent, within two miles of Sher- 
burn, Frank Windham, the knight marshal's brother, who 
being my old acquaintance, and a very honest man, I resolved 
to go to his house. 

But the night before we were to go away, we had a mis- 
fortune that might have done us much prejudice; for Mrs. 
Norton, who was big with child, fell into labour, and mis- 
carried of a dead child, and was very ill ; so that we could 
not tell how in the world to find an excuse for Mrs. Lane to 

2 n 2 



468 KING CUAULES'S ESCAPE 

leave her cousin in that condition ; and indeed it was not safe 
to stay longer there, where there was so great resort of disaf- 
fected idle people. 

At length, consulting with Mr. Lassells, I thought the 
best way to counterfeit a letter from her father's house, old 
Mr. Lane's, to tell her that her father was extremely ill, and 
commanded her to come away immediately, for fear that she 
should not otherwise find him alive ; which letter Pope deli- 
vered so well, while they were all at supper, and Mrs. Lane 
playing her part so dexterously, that all believed old Mr. 
Lane to be indeed in great danger, and gave his daughter 
the excuse to go away with me the very next morning 
early. 

Accordingly the next morning'"' we went directly to Trent 
to Frank Windham's house, and lay that night at Castle- 
Cary, and the next night came to Trent, where I had ap- 
pointed my Lord Wilmot to meet me, whom I still took care 
not to keep with me, but sent him a little before, or left to 
come after me.t 

When we came to Trent, my Lord Wilmot and I advised 
with Frank Windham, whether he had any acquaintance at 
any sea-town upon the coast of Dorset or Devonshire ; who 
told me that he was very well acquainted with Gyles Strang- 
ways, and that he would go directly to him, and inform him- 
self whether he might not have some acquaintance at Wey- 
mouth or Lyme, or some of those parts. 

But Gyles Strangways proved not to have any, as having 
been long absent from all those places, as not daring to stir 
abroad, having been always faithful to the king; but he 
desired Frank Windham to try w4iat he could do therein, it 
being unsafe for him to be found busy upon the sea-coast. 
But withal he sent me three hundred broad pieces, which he 
knew were necessary for me* in the condition I was now in ; 
for I durst carry no money about me in those mean clothes, 
and my hair cut short, but about ten or twelve shillings in 
silver. 

* I staid about two days at Po])e's [Lassells]. K. 

•f- I could never get my Lord Wilmot to put on any disguise, he say- 
ing, that he should look frightfully in it ; and therefore did never put on 
any. K. 



FUOM AVORCESTER. 469 

Frank Windham, upon this, went himself to Lyme, and 
spoke with a merchant there, to hire a ship for my trans- 
portation, being forced to acquaint him that it was I that 
was to be carried out. The merchant undertook it, his name 

being , and accordingly hired a vessel for 

France, appointing a day for my coming to Lyme to embark. 
And accordingly we set out from Frank Windham's, and to 
cover the matter the better, I rode before a cousin ojf Frank 
Windham's, one Mrs. Judith Coningsby, still going by the 
name of William Jackson. "^^ 

Memorandum — That one day, during my stay at Trent, I 
hearing the bells ring (the church being hard by Frank 
Windham's house) and seeing a company got together in the 
churchyard, I sent down the maid of the house, who knew 
me, to inquire what the matter was ; who returning came up 
and told me, that there was a rogue, a trooper, come out of 
Cromwell's army that was telling the people that he had 
killed me, and that that was my buff coat which he had 
then on. Upon which, most of the village being fanatics, 
they were ringing the bells, and making a bonfire for joy 
of it. 

This merchant having appointed us to come to Lyme, 
we, viz. myself, my Lord Wilmot, Frank Windham, Mrs. 
Coningsby, and one servant of Frank Windham's, whose 
name was Peter, were directed from him to a little village 
hard by Lyme, the vessel being to come out of the Cobb at 
Lyme, and come to a little creek that was just by this villao-e, 
whither we went, and to send their boat ashore to take us in 
at the said creek, and carry us over to France, the wind being 
then very good at north. 

So we sat up that niglit, expecting the ship to come out, 
but she failed us. Upon which, I sent Frank Windham's 
man, Peter, and my Lord Wilmot to Lyme the next morning, 
to know the reason of it. But we were much troubled how 
to pass away our time the next day, till we could have an 
answer. At last, we resolved to go to a place called Bur- 
port, about four miles from Lyme, and there stay till my 

* At Trent Mrs. Lane and Lassells went home. I staid some four 
or five days at Frank Windham's house, and was known to most of his 
family. K» 



470 KING CUARLES'S ESCAPH 

Lord Wilmot should bring us news, whether the vessel ccul? 
be had the next night or no, and the reason of her last night'a 
failure. 

So Frank Windham, and Mrs. Coningsby and I, went in 
the morning, on horseback, away to Burport; and just as 
we came into the town, I could see the streets full of red- 
coats, CromwelTs soldiers, being a regiment of Colonel 
Haynes's, viz. fifteen hundred men going to embark to take 
Jersey, at which Frank Windham was very much startled, 
and asked me what I would do ? I told him that we must go 
impudently into the best inn in the town, and take a chamber 
there, as the only thing to be done ; because we should other- 
ways miss my Lord Wilmot, in case we went anywhere else, 
and that would be very inconvenient both to him and me. 
So we rode directly into the best inn of the place, and found 
the yard very full of soldiers. I alighted, and taking the 
horses, thought it the best way to go blundering in among 
them, and lead them through the middle of the soldiers into 
the stable, which I did ; and they were very angry with me 
for my rudeness. 

As soon as I came into the stable I took the bridle off the 
horses, and called the hostler to me to help me, and to give 
the horses some oats. And as the hostler was helping me to 
feed the horses, " Sure, Sir," says the hostler, " I know your 
face?" which was no very pleasant question to me. But I 
thought the best way was to ask him, where he had lived — 
whether he had always lived there or no ? He told me, that 
he was but newly come thither ; that he was born in Exeter, 
and had been hostler in an inn there, hard by one Mr. Pot- 
ter's, a merchant, in whose house I had lain in the time of 
war : so I thought it best to give the fellow no further occa- 
sion of thinking where he had seen me, for fear he should 
guess right at last ; therefore I told him, "- Friend, certainly 
you have scon me then at Mr. Potter's, for I served him a 
good while, above a year." " !" says he, " then I remem- 
ber you a boy there ;" and with that was put off from think- 
ing any more on it; but desired that we might drink a pot 
of beer together ; which I excused, by saying, that I must 
go wait on my master, and get his dinner ready for him. 
But told him, that my master was going for London, and 



FROM WORCESTER. 471 

would return about three weeks hence, when he would lio 
there, and I would not fail to drink a pot with him. 

As soon as we had dined, my Lord Wilmot came into the 
town from Lyme, but went to another inn. Upon which, 
we rode out of town, as if we had gone upon the road towards 
London ; and when we were got two miles off, my Lord 
Wilmot overtook us (he having observed, while in town, 
where we were), and told us, that he believed the ship might 
be ready next night ; but that there had been some mistake 
betwixt him and the master of the ship. 

Upon which, I not thinking it fit to go back again to the 
same place where we had sat up the night before, we went 

to a village called , about four miles in the country 

above Lyme, aud sent in Peter to know of the merchant 
whether the ship would be ready. But the master of the 
ship, doubting that it was some dangerous employment he 
was hired upon, absolutely refused the merchant, and would 
not carry us over. 

Whereupon we were forced to go back again to Frank 
Windham's to Trent, where we might be in some safety till 
we had hired another ship. 

As soon as we came to Frank Windham's, I sent away 
presently to Colonel Robert Philips, who lived then at Salis- 
bury, to see what he could do for the getting me a ship ; 
which he undertook very willingly, and had got one at South- 
ampton, but by misfortune she was, amongst others, pressed to 
transport their soldiers to Jersey, by which she failed us 
also. 

Upon this, I sent further into Sussex, where Robin Philips 
knew one Colonel Gunter, to see whether he could hire a 
ship anywhere upon that coast. And not thinking it con- 
venient for me to stay much longer at Frank Windham's 
(where I had been in all about a fortnight, and was become 
known to very many), I went directly away to a widow gen- 
tlewoman's house, one Mrs. Hyde, some four or five miles 
from Salisbury, where I came into the house just as it was 
almost dark, with Robin Philips only, not intending at first 
to make myself known. But just as I alighted at the door 
Mrs. Hyde knew me, though she had never seen me but once 
in her life, and that was with the king, my father, in the 



472 KING Charles's escape 

army, when we marched by Salisbury, some years before, in 
the time of the war ; but she being a discreet woman, took 
no notice at that time of me, I jDassing only for a friend of 
Ivobin Pliilips's, by whose advice I went thither. 

At supper there were with us Frederick Hyde, since a 
judge, and his sister-in-law, a widow, Robin Philips, myself, 
and Dr. Henshaw, since Bishop of London, whom I had 
appointed to meet me there. 

While we were at supper, I observed Mrs. Hyde and her 
brother Frederick to look a little earnestly at me, which led 
me to believe they might know me. But I was not at all 
startled at it, it having been my purpose to let her know 
who I was ; and accordingly after supper Mrs. Hyde came 
to me, and I discovered myself to her; who told me, she 
had a very safe place to hide me in, till we knew whether 
our ship was ready or no. But she said it was not safe for 
her to trust anybody but herself and her sister ; and there- 
fore advised me to take my horse next morning, and make 
UB if I quitted the house, and return again about night ; for 
she would order it so that all her servants and everybody 
should be out of the house, but herself and her sister, whose 
name I remember not. 

So Robin Philips and I took our horses, and went as far 
as Stone-henge ; and there we staid looking upon the stones 
for some time,'^ and returned back again to Hale (the place 
where Mrs. Hyde lived), about the hour she appointed; 
w^here I went up into the hiding-hole, that was very con- 
venient and safe, and staid there all alone (Robin Philips 
then going away to Salisbury) some four or five days. 

After lour or five days' stay, Robin Philips came to the 
house and acquainted me that a ship was ready provided for me 
at Shoreham, by Colonel Gunter. Upon which, at two o'clock 
in the morning, I went out of the house by the back-way, 
and, with Robin Philips, met Colonel Gunter and my Lord 
Wilmot together, some fourteen or fifteen miles off, on my 
way towards Shoreham, and were to lodge that night at a 

* The king and Colonel Philips rode about the Downs, and took a 
view of the wonder of the country, Stone-heni^e ; where they found that 
the king's arithmetic gave the lie to tlie fabulous tale, that those stones 
cannot be told alike twice toj^ether. Ph. 



FROM WORCESTER. 473 

place called Hambleton, seven miles from Portsmoutli; because 
it was too long a journey to go in one day to Shoreham. And 
here we lay at a house of a brother-in-law of Colonel Gun- 

ter s, one Mr. , where I was not to be known (I being 

still in the same grey cloth suit, as a serving-man), though 
the master of the house was a very honest poor man, who, 
while we were at supper, came in, he having been all the day 
playing the good-fellow at an ale-house in the town, and 
taking a stool, sat down with us ; where his brother-in-law. 
Colonel Gunter, talking very feelingly concerning Cromwell 
and all his party, he went and whispered his brother in the 
ear, and asked, whether I was not some round-headed rogue's 
son ; for I looked very suspiciously. Upon which, Colonel 
Gunter answering for me, that he might trust his life in my 
hands, he came and took me by the hand, and drinking a 
good glass of beer to me, called me brother round-head. 

About that time my Lord Southampton, that was then at 
Titchfield, suspecting, for what reason I don't know, that it 
was possible I might be in the country, sent either to Robin 
Philips or Dr. Henshaw, to offer his service, if he could 
serve me in my escape. But being then provided of a ship, 
I would not put him to the danger of having any thing to do 
with it. 

The next day we went to a place, four miles off of Shore- 
ham, called Bright-helmstone, where we were to meet with 
the master of the ship, as thinking it more convenient for us 
to meet there than just at Shoreham, where the ship was. 
So when we came to the inn at Bright-helmstone, we met 
with one QMansel"], the merchant, who had hired the vessel, 
in company with her master,'^' the merchant only knowing 
me, as having hired her only to carry over a person of qua- 
lity, that was escaped from the battle of Worcester, without 
naming anybody. And as we were all (viz. Robin Philips, 
my liord Wilmot, Colonel Gunter, the merchant, the master, 
and I), I observed that the master of the vessel looked very 
much upon me. And as soon as we had supped, calling the 
merchant aside, the master told him, that he had not dealt 
fairly with him ; for though he had given him a very good 

* Mr. Francis Mansel, the faithful merchant who provided the bark. 
Captain Tettershall, the master of the bark. Fh. 



474 KING Charles's escape 

price foi the carrying over that gentleman, yet he had not 
been clear with him ; '' For,*' says he, " he is the king, and 
I very well know him to be so." Upon which, the merchant 
denying it, saying that he was mistaken, the master answered, 
" I know him very well ; for he took my ship, together with 
other fishing- vessels at Bright-helmstone, in the year 1648 
(which was when I commanded the king my father's fleet, 
and I very kindly let them go again). But," says he to 
the merchant, " be not troubled at it ; for I think I do God 
and my country good service, in preserving the king, and, 
by the grace of God, I will venture my life and all for him, 
and set him safely on shore, if I can, in France." Upon 
which, the merchant came and told me what had passed be- 
tween them ; and thereby found myself under a necessity of 
trusting him. But I took no kind of notice of it presently 
to him ; but thinking it convenient not to let him go home, 
lest he should be asking advice of his wife, or anybody else, 
we kept him with us in the inn, and sat up all night drinking 
beer, and taking tobacco with him. 

And here I also ran another very great danger, as being 
confident I was known by the master of the inn, for as I was 
standing, after supper, by the fire-side, leaning my hand 
upon a chair, and all the rest of the company being gone 
into another room, the master of the inn came in, and fell a 
talking with me, and just as he was looking about, and saw 
there was nobody in the room, he, upon a sudden, kissed my 
hand that was upon the back of the chair, and said to me, 
'' God bless you wheresoever you go ; I do not doubt, 
before I die, but to be a lord, and my wife a lady : " so I 
laughed, and went away into the next room, not desiring 
then any further discourse with him, there being no remedy 
against my being known by him, and more discourse might 
have but raised suspicion. On which consideration, I thought 
it best for to trust him in that manner, and he proved very 
honest. 

About four o'clock in the morning, myself and the com- 
})any before named went towards Shorebam, taking the master 
of the ship with us, on horseback, behind one of our com- 
pany, and came to the vessel's side, which was not above 
sixty con. But it being low-water, and the vessel lying dry, 



FROM WORCESTER. 475 

I and my Lord Wilmot got up with a ladder into her, and 
went and lay down in the little cabin, till the tide came to 
fetch us off. 

But I was no sooner got into the ship, and lain down upon 
the bed, but the master came in to me, fell down upon his 
knees, and kissed my hand ; telling me, that he knew me very 
well, and would venture life, and all that he had in the world, 
to set me down safe. in France. 

So about seven o'clock in the morning, it being high- water, 
we went out of the port; but the master being bound for 
Pool, loaden with sea-coal, because he would not have it seen 
from Shoreham that he did not go his intended voyage, but 
stood all the day, with a very easy sail, towards the Isle of 
Wight (only my Lord Wilmot and myself, of my company, 
on board). And as we were sailing, the master came to me, 
and desired me that I would persuade his men to use their 
endeavours with me to get him to set us on shore in France, 
the better to cover him from any suspicion thereof. Upon 
which, I went to the men, which were four and a boy, and 
told them truly, that we were two merchants that had some 
misfortunes, and were a little in debt ; that we had some 
money owing us at Rouen, in France, and were afraid of 
being arrested in England ; that if they would persuade the 
master (the wind being very fair) to give us a trip over to 
Dieppe, or one of those ports near Rouen, they would oblige 
us very much, and with that I gave them twenty shillings 
to drink. Upon which, they undertook to second me, if I 
would propose it to the master. So I went to the master, 
and told him our condition, and that if he would give us a 
trip over to France, we would give him some consideration 
for it. Upon which he counterfeited difficulty, saying, that 
it would hinder his voyage. But his men, as they had pro- 
mised me, joining their persuasions to ours, and, at last, he 
yielded to set us over. 

So about five o'clock in the afternoon, as we were in sight 
of the Isle of Wight, we stood directly over to the coast of 
France, the wind being then full north ; and the next morn- 
ing, a little before day, we saw the coast. But the tide 
failing us, and the wind coming about to the south-west, we 
were forced to come to an anchor, within two miles of the 
shore, till the tide of flood was done. 



47G KIxNG CllAIiLKSS ESCAPE FUOM WORCESTER. 

AYe found ourselves just before a harbour in France, 
called Fcscamp ; and just as the tide of ebb was made, espied 
a vessel to leeward of us, which, by her nimble working, I 
suspected to be an Ostcnd ])rivateer. Upon which, I went 
to my Lord Wilmot, and telling him my opinion of that ship, 
proposed to him our going ashore in the little cock-boat, for 
fear they should prove so, as not knowing, but finding us 
going into a port of France (there being then a war betwixt 
France and Spain), they might plunder us, and j)ossibly carry 
us away and set us ashore in England ; the master also him- 
self had the same opinion of her being an Ostender, and 
came to me to tell me so, which thought I made it my busi- 
ness to dissuade him from, for fear it should tempt him to 
set sail again with us for the coast of England ; yet so sen- 
sible I was of it, that I and my Lord Wilmot went both on 
shore in the cock-boat ; and going up into the town of Fes- 
camp, staid there all day to provide horses for Rouen. But 
the vessel which had so affrighted us proved afterwards only 
;i French hoy. 

The next day we got to Rouen, to an inn, one of the best 
in the town, in the Fish-market, where they made difficulty 
to receive us, taking us, by our clothes, to be some thieves, 
r persons that liad been doing some very ill thing, until 
M.i\ Sandburne, a merchant, for whom I sent, came and 
answered for us. 

One particular more there is observable in relation to this 
our passage into France ; that the vessel that brought us over, 
Iiad no sooner landed me, and I given her master a pass, for 
fear of meeting with any of our Jersey frigates, but the wind 
turned so happily for her, as to carry her directly for Pool, 
without its being known that she had ever been upon the 
coast of France. 

We staid at Rouen one day, to provide ourselves better 
clothes, and give notice to the queen, my mother (who was 
then at Paris), of my being safely landed. After which, set- 
ting out in a hired coach, I was met by my mother, with 
coaches, short of Paris ; anJ by her conducted thither where 
I safelv arrived. 



BOSCOBEL; 



THE COMPLETE HISTORY OF THE MOST MIRACULOUS 
PRESERVATION OF 

KING CHARLES 11. 

After the Battle of Worcester September the Srd, 1651. 

TO WHICH IS ADDED, 

CLAUSTRUM REGALE RESERATUM ; 

OR, 

THE KING'S CONCEALMENT AT TRENT. 



f 



TO 



THE KING'S MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY, 



Sir, 

Among the many addresses which every day offers your sacred majesty, 
this humbly hopes your particular gracious acceptance, since it has no 
other ambition than faithfully to represent to your majesty, and, by your 
royal permission, to all the world, the history of those miraculous provi- 
dences that preserved you in the battle of Worcester, concealed you in the 
wilderness at Boscobel, and led you on your way towards a land where you 
might safely expect the returning favours of Heaven, which now, after so 
long a trial, has graciously heard our prayers, and abundantly crowned 
your patience. 

And, as in the conduct of a great part of this greatest affair, it pleased 
God (the more to endear his mercies) to make choice of many very little, 
though fit, instruments ; so has my weakness, by this happy precedent, 
been encouraged to hope if not unsuitable for me to relate, what the wisest 
king thought proper for them to act ; wherein yet I humbly beg your 
majesty's pardon, being conscious to myself of my utter incapacity to 
express, either your unparalleled valour in the day of contending, or (which 
is a virtue far less usual for kings) your strong and even mind in the time 
of your sufferings. 

From which sublime endowments of your most heroic majesty, I derive 
these comforts to myself, that whoever undertakes to reach at your perfec- 
tions, must fall short as well as I, though not so much. And while I 
depend on your royal clemency more than others, I am more obliged 
to be 

Your majesty's most loyal subject. 

And most humble servant, 

THO. BLOUNT. 



TO THE READER. 



Behold, I present you with an history of wonders ; wonders so great, 
that, as no former age can parallel, succeeding times will scarce beheve 
them. 

Expect here to read the highest tyranny and rebellion that was ever 
acted by subjects, and the greatest hardships and persecutions that ever 
were suffered by a king ; yet did liis patience exceed his sorrows, and his 
virtue became at last victorious. 

Some particulars, I confess, are so superlatively extraordinary, that 
I easily should fear they would scarce gain belief, even from my modern 
reader, had I not this strong argument to secure me, that no ingenuous 
person will think me so frontless, as knowingly to write an untruth in an 
history where his sacred majesty (my dread sovereign, and the best of 
kings) bears the principal part, and most of the other persons concerned 
in the same action (except the Earl of Derby, Lord Wilmot, and Colonel 
Blague) still alive, ready to pour out shame and confusion on so impudent 
a forgery. 

But I am so far from that foul crime of publishing what^s false, th^t 
I can safely say I know not one line unauthentic ; such has been my care 
to be sure of the truth, that I have diligently collected the particulars 
from most of their mouths, who were the very actors themselves in this 
scene of miracles. 

To every individual person (as far as my industry could arrive to know) 
I have given the due of his merit, be it for valour, fidelity, or whatever 
other quality that any way had the honour to relate to his majesty's 
service. 

In this later edition, I have added some particulars which came to my 
knowledge since the first publication ; and have observed that, in this 
persecution, much of his majesty's actions and sufferings have run parallel 
with those of King David. 

And though the whole complex may want elegance and politeness of 
style (which the nature of such relations does not properly challenge), yet 
it cannot want truth, the chief ingredient for such undertakings ; in which 
assurance I am not afraid to venture myself in your hands. 

Read on, and wonder ! 



•I^'-K*-" 



BOSCOBEL; 



OR, 

THE HISTORY OF KING CHARLES 11. s 

MOST MIRACULOUS PRESERVATION AFTER THE BATTLE OF 
WORCESTER. 



PART I. 

It was in June, in tlie year 1650, that Charles the Second, 
undoubted heir of Charles the First, of glorious memory, 
King of Great Britain, France, and Ireland (after his royal 
father had been barbarously murdered, and himself banished 
his own dominions, by his own rebellious subjects), took ship- 
ping at Scheveling, in Holland, and having escaped great 
dangers at sea, arrived soon after at Spey, in the north of 
Scotland. 

On the 1st of January following, his majesty was crowned 
at Scoon, and an army raised in that kingdom to invade this, 
in hope to recover his regalities here, then most unjustly de- 
tained from him by some members of the Long Parliament, 
and Oliver Cromwell their general, who soon after most trai- 
torously assumed the title of Protector of the new-minted 
commonwealth of England, Scotland, and Ireland. 

Of this royal Scotch army the general officers were these : 
Lieutenant-Gen. David Leslie, Lieutenant-Gen. Middleton 
(who was since created Earl of Middleton, Lord Clarmont and 
Fettercairn), Major-Gen. Massey, Major-Gen. Montgomery, 
Major-Gen. Daliel, and Major-Gen. Yandrose, a Dutchman. 

The 1st of August, 1651, his majesty with his army began 
his march into England ; and on the 5th of the same month, 
at his royal camp at Woodhouse, near the border, published 
his gracious declaration of general pardon and oblivion to all 
his loving subjects of the kingdom of England and dominion 
of Wales, that would desist from assisting the usurped autho- 
rity of the pretended commonwealth of England, and return 

2 I 



4S2 Boscor.ix. 

to iho obedience tlicy owed to tlicir lawful king, and to tho 
ancient happy government of tbe kingdom, except only Oliver 
Cromwell, Henry Ireton, John Bradshaw, John Cook (pre- 
tended solicitor), and all others who did actually sit and vote 
in the nmrder of his royal father. 

And lastly did declare, that the service being done, the 
Scotch army should quietly retire, that so all armies might be 
disbanded, and a lasting peace settled with religion and 
righteousness. 

His majesty, after the publication of this gracious offer, 
marched his army into Lancashire, where he received some 
considerable supplies from the Earl of Derby (that loyal sub- 
ject), and at Warrington Bridge met with the first opposition 
made by the rebels in England, but his presence soon put 
them to flight. 

In this interim his majesty had sent a copy of his declara- 
tion, inclosed in a gracious letter to Thomas Andrews, then 
lord mayor (who had been one of his late majesty's judges), 
and the aldermen of the city of London, which, by order of the 
rump-rebels, then sitting at Westminster, was (on the 26th of 
August) publicly burnt at the old Exchange by the hangman, 
and their own declaration proclaimed there and at Westmin- 
ster, with beat of drum and sound of trumpet; by which his 
sacred majesty (to whom they could afford no better title 
than Charles Stuart), his abetters, agents, and complices, 
were declared traitors, rebels, and public enemies. Impudence 
and treason beyond example ! 

After a tedious march of near three hundred miles, his 
majesty, with his army, on the 22nd of August, possessed him- 
self of Worcester, after some small opposition made by the 
rebels there, commanded by Colonel John James. And at 
his entrance, the mayor of that city carried the sword before 
his majesty, who had left the Earl of Derby in Lancashire, as 
well to settle that and the adjacent countries in a posture of 
defence ai'-ainst Cromwell and his confederates, as to raise 
some auxiliary forces to recruit his majesty's army, in case the 
success of a battle should not prove so happy as all good men 
desired. 

But (such was Heaven's decree) on the 25th of August, the 
earl's new-raised forces, being overpowered, were totally de- 



BOSCOBEL. 483 

feated, near Wiggan, in that count;/, by Col. Liiburn, witli a 
regiment of rebellious sectaries. In which conflict the Lord 
Widdrington, Sir Thomas Tildesly, Col. Trollop, Col. Bointon, 
Lieutenant-Col. Galliard (faithful subjects and valiant sol- 
diers), with some others of good note, were slain ; Colonel 
Edward Roscarrock wounded ; Sir William Throkmorton 
(since knight marshal to his majesty), Sir Timotliy Feather- 
stonhaugh (who was beheaded by the rebels at Chester, on 
the 22nd of October following), Col. Bains, and others, taken 
prisoners ; and their general, the Earl of Derby (who charged 
the rebels valiantly, and received several wounds), put to flight 
with a small number of men : in which condition he made 
choice of the way towards Worcester, whither he knew his 
majesty's army was designed to march. 

After some daj^s, my lord, with Col. Roscarrock and two 
servants, got into the confines of Staff'ordshire and Shropshire, 
near Newport, where at one Mr. Watson's house he met with 
Mr. Richard Snead (an honest gentleman of that county, and 
of his lordship's acquaintance), to whom he recounted the 
misfortune of his defeat at Wiggan, and the necessity of tak- 
ing some rest, if Mr. Snead could recommend his lordship to 
any private house near hand, where he might safely continue 
till he could find an opportunity to go to his majesty. 

Mr. Snead brought my lc*rd and his company to Boscobel 
House, a very obscure habitation, situate in Shropshire, but 
adjoining upon Stafi'ord shire, and lies between Tong Castle 
and Brewood, in a kind of wilderness. John Giflard, Esq., 
who first built this house, invited Sir Basil Brook, with other 
friends and neighbours, to a house-warming feast ; at which 
time Sir Basil was desired by Mr. Gifi'ard to give the house a 
name, he aptly calls it Boscobel (from the Italian Bosco-hello) 
which in that language signifies fair wood), because seated in 
the midst cif many fair woods. 

At this place the earl arrived on the 29th of August (being 
Friday), at night ; but the house at that time afi*orded no 
inhabitant except William Penderel, the housekeeper, and his 
wife, who, to preserve so eminent a person, freely adventured 
to receive my lord, and kept him in safety till Sunday night 
following, when (according to my lord's desire of going to 
Worcester) he conveyed him to Mr. Humphrey Elliot's house, 

2 I 2 



4S4 liOoCOlJEL. 

:;t Gataker Park, (a truc-liearted royali.>5t), which was about 
nine miles on the way from Boscobcl tliithcr. Mr. Elliot 
did not only cheerfully entertain the earl, but lent him ten 
pounds, and conducted him and his company safe to Wor- 
cester. 

The next day after his majesty's arrival at Worcester, being 
Saturday, the 23rd of August, he was proclaimed King of 
Great Britain, France, and Ireland, by jMr. Thomas Lisens, 
mayor, and Mr. James Bridges, sherifi', of that loyal city, 
with great acclamations. 

On the same day his majesty published this following ma- 
nifesto, or declaration : — 

" Charles, by the grace of God, King of England, Scotland, 
France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, &c. To all 
whom it may concern, greeting. We desire not the effusion 
of blood, we covet not the spoil or forfeiture of our people ; 
our declaration at our entry into this kingdom, the quiet 
behaviour and abstinence of our army throughout this long 
march, and our own general pardon, declared to all the inha- 
bitants of this city, without taking advantage of the opposition 
here made us, by a force of the enemy over-mastering them, 
until we have chased them away, have sufficiently certified 
both what w^e seek is only that the laws of England (which 
secure the right both of king and subject) may henceforth 
recover their due power and force, and all past bitterness of 
these unnatural wars be buried and forgotten. As a means 
whereunto, we have by our ^varrants of the date hereof, and 
do hereby summon, upon their allegiance, all the nobility, gen- 
try, and others of what degree and condition soever, of our 
county of Worcester, from sixteen to sixty, to appear in their 
persons, and with any horses, arms, and ammunition they 
have or can procure, at Pitchcroft, near the city, on Tuesday 
next, being the 26th of this instant month, where oursclf will 
be i)resent that day (and also the next, in case those of the 
further parts of the county should not be able to come up 
sooner), to dispose of such of them as we shall think fit, for 
our service in the war, in defence of this city and county, and 
to add unto our marching army, and to apply others (therein 
versed) to matters of civil advice and government. Upon 
which appearance, we shall immediately declare to all pre- 



roscor>KL. 485 

sent, and conforming tliemseives to our royal authority, our 
free pardon ; not excluding from this summons, or the pardon 
held forth, or from trust and employment in our service, as 
we shall find them cordial and useful therein, any person or 
persons heretofore, or at this time actually employed in oppo- 
sition to us, whether in the military way, as governors, colo- 
nels, captains, common soldiers, or whatsoever else ; or in the 
civil, as sheriffs, under-sheriffs, justices of the peace, collec- 
tors, high constables, or any other higher or lower quality ; 
for securing of all whom before mentioned in their loyal ad- 
dresses and performances (besides our army [[more than once 
successful since our entrance]] which will be between them 
and the enemy, and the engagement of our own person in their 
defence), we have directed this city to be forthwith fortified, 
and shall use such other helps and means as shall occur to us 
in order to that end. But, on the other side, if any person, 
of what degree or quality soever, either through disloyalty 
and disaffection, or out of fear of the cruel usurpers and op- 
pressors, accompanied with a presumption upon our mercy 
and goodness, or lastly, presuming upon any former service, 
shall oppose or neglect us at this time, they shall find, that as 
we have authority to punish in life, liberty, and estate, so we 
want not now the power to do it, and (if overmuch provoked) 
shall not want the will neither ; and in particular unto those 
who have heretofore done and suffered for their loyalty, we 
say it is now in their hands either- to double that score, or to 
strike it off; concluding with this, that although our disposi- 
tion abound with tenderness to our people, yet we cannot 
think it such to let them lie under a confessed slavery and false 
peace, when, as we well know, and all the world may see, we 
have force enough, with the conjunction of those that groan 
under the present yoke (we will not say to dispute, for that 
we shall do well enough with those we have brought with us), 
but clearly (without any considerable opposition) to restore, 
together with ourself, the quiet, the liberty, and the laws of 
the English nation. 

** Given at our city of Worcester, the 23rd of Aug. 1651, 
** and in the third year of our reign.'' 

Upon Sunday, the 24th of August, Mr. Crosby (an eminent 
divine of that city) preached before his majesty in the cathe- 



4SC Losc\.iii:L. 

dral church, and hi his prayers styled his majesty, '' in all 
causes, and over all j^crsons, next under God, supreme head 
and governor;" at wliich the Presbyterian Scots took ex- 
ception, and Mr. Crosby was afterwards admonished by some 
of them to forbear such expressions. 

Tuesday, the 26th of August, was the rendezvous, in Pitch- 
croft, of such loyal subjects as came in to his majesty's aid, in 
pursuance of his before-mentioned declaration and summons. 
Here appeared : 

Francis Lord Talbot, afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury, with about 

GO horse. 
Mr. Mervin Touchet, his lieut. -colonel. ^ 

Sir John Packington. 
Sir Walter Blount, 
Sir Ralph Clare. 
Sir Rowland Berkley. 
Sir John Winford. 
Mr. Ralph Sheldon of Beoly. 

iSIr. John Washburn of Wiichinford, with 40 horse. 
Mr. Thos. Hornyold of Blackmore Park, with 40 horse. 
INIr. William Seldon of Finstall. 
Mr. Thomas Acton. 
Captain Eenbow. 
Mr. Robert Blount of Kenswick. 
Mr. Robert Wi^'-uiore of Lucton. 
Mr. Edward Femwl the elder 
Captain Kingston 
Mr. Peter Blount. 
Mr. Edward Blount 
iSIr. Walter Walsh. 
Mr. Charles Wahh. 
Mr. William Dansey. 
Mr. Francis Knotsford. 
jNIr. George Chambers, dec. 

AVitli divers others, who v/ere honoured and encouraged by 
Ills mnjesty's presence. Notwithstanding which access, the 
:iumber of his army, both English and Scots, was conceived 
not to exceed 12,000 men, viz. 10,000 Scots, and about 2,000 
English ; and those, too, not excellently armed, nor plentifully 
tored with anmiunition. 

Meantime Cromwell (that grand patron of sectaries) had 
amassed together a numerous body of rebels, commanded by 
himself in chief, and by the Lord Grey of Groby, Fleetwood, 
and Lambert, under him, consisting of above 80,000 men 



BOSCOBEL. 4 ST. 

(being generally the scum and frotli of the whole l^ingcloin), 
one part of which were sectaries, wLo, through a fanatic zeal, 
were become devotees to this great idol ; the other part 
seduced persons, who either by force or fear were unfortu- 
nately made actors or participants in this so horrible and 
fatal a tragedy. 

Thus, then, began the pickeerings to the grand engagement. 
Major- General Massey, with, a commanded i)arty, being sent 
by his majesty to secure the bridge and pass at UiJton upon 
Severn, seven miles below Worcester, on Thursday, the 28th 
of August, Lambert with a far greater number of rebels 
attacked him, and after some dispute gained the pass, the 
river being then fordable. Yet the major-general behaved 
himself very gallantly, received a shot in the hand from some 
musketeers the enemy had conveyed into the church, and 
retreated in good order to Worcester. 

During this encounter, Cromwell himself (whose head- 
quarter was the night before at Pershore) advanced to 
Stoughton, within four miles of the city, on the south side, 
himself quartered that night at Mr. Simon's house, at White 
Lady- Aston ; and a party of his horse faced the city that 
evening. 

The next day (August the 29th), Sultan Oliver appeared 
v/ith a great body of horse and foot on Red Hill, v/ithin a 
mile of Worcester, where he made a bonnemine, but attempted 
nothing ; and that night part of his army quartered at Judge 
Barkley's house at Speachley. The same day it was resolved 
by his majesty, at a council of war, to give the grand rebel a 
camisado, by beating up his quarters that night with 1,500 
select horse and foot, commanded by Lieut.-General Middle- 
ton and Sir Yv^illiam Keyth, all of them wearing their shirts 
over their armour for distinction ; which accordingly was at- 
tempted, and might in all probability have been successful, 
had not the design been most traitorously discovered to the 
rebels by one Guyse, a tailor in the town, and a notorious 
sectary, v/ho was hanged the day following, as the just reward 
of his treachery. In this action Major Knox was slain, and 
some few taken prisoners by the enemy. A considerable 
party of the rebels, commanded by Colonel Fleetwood, 
Colonel Richard Ingoldsby (who since became a real convert. 



48S ■ BO.SrOHKL 

and was created Kiiiixlit of the Bath at Iiis majesty's corona- 
tion), Colonel Golf, and Colonel Gibbons, ])eing- got over the 
Severn, at Upton, marched next day to Powick-town, where 
they made a halt ; for Powick-bridge (lying upon the river 
Team, between Powick-town and Worcester) was guarded 
l)y a brigade of his majesty's horse and foot, commanded 
by Major-General Robert Montgomery and Colonel George 
Keyth. 

The fatal 3rd of September being come, his majesty this 
day (holding a council of war upon the top of the college 
church steeple, the better to discover the enemies' posture) 
observed some firing at Powick, and Cromwell making a 
bridge of boats over Severn, under Bunshill, about a mile 
below the city towards Team-mouth ; his majesty presently 
goes down, commands all to their arms, and marches in person 
to Powick-bridge, to give orders, as well for maintaining that 
bridge, as for opposing the making the other of boats, and 
hasted back to his army in the city. 

Soon after his majesty v>^as gone from Powick-bridge, the 
enemy assaulted it furiously, w^iich was well defended by 
Montgomery, till himself was dangerously wounded and his 
ammunition spent, so that he was forced to make a disorderly^ 
retreat into Worcester, leaving Colonel Keyth a prisoner at 
the bridge. At the same time Cromwell had with much 
celerity finished his bridge of boats and planks over the main 
river, without any considerable opposition, saving that Col- 
onel Pitscotty, with about three hundred Highlanders, per- 
formed as much therein as could be expected from a handful 
of men fighting against great numbers. By this means Oliver 
held communication with those of his party at Powick-bridge, 
and when he had marched over a considerable number of his 
men, said (in his hypocritical way), " The Lord of Hosts be 
with you;" and returned himself to raise a battery of great 
guns against the fort royal on the south side of the city. 

His majesty being returned from Powick-bridge, marched 
with the Duke of Buckingham, Lord Grandison, and some 
other of his cavalry, through the city, and out at Sudbury- 
gate by the fort royal, where the rebels' great shot came fre- 
quently near his sacred person. 

At this time Cromwell was settled in an advantageous post 



BOSCOBEL. 489 

at Perrywood, witliin a mile of the city, swelling with pride, 
and confident in the numbers of his men, having besides raised 
a breastwork, at the cocksboot of that wood, for his greater 
security; but Duke Hamilton (formerly Lord Lanerick), with 
his own troop and some Highlanders, Sir Alexander Forbes, 
with his regiment of foot, and divers English lords and gen- 
tlemen volunteers, by bis majesty's command and encourage- 
ment, engaged him, and did great execution upon his best 
men, forced the great sultan (as the Rhodians in like case 
did the Turk) to retreat with his janizaries ; and his majesty 
was once as absolute master of his great guns as he ought then 
to have been of the whole land. 

Here his majesty gave an incomparable example of valour 
to the rest, by charging in person, which the Highlanders, 
especially, imitated in a great measure, fighting with the but- 
end of their muskets when their ammunition was spent ; but 
now supplies of rebels being continually poured upon them, 
and the main body of Scotch horse not coming up in due time 
from the town to his majesty's relief, his army was forced to 
retreat in at Sudbury-gate in much disorder. 

In this action Duke Hamilton (who fought valiantly) had 
his horse killed under him, and was himself mortally wounded, 
of which he died within few days, and many of his troop (con- 
sisting much of gentlemen, and divers of his own name) were 
slain ; Sir John Douglas received his death- wound ; and Sir 
Alexander Forbes (who was the first knight the king made 
in Scotland, and commanded the fort royal here) was shot 
through both the calves of his legs, lay in the wood all night, 
and was brought prisoner to Worcester next day. 

The rebels in this encounter had great advantage, as well 
in their numbers, as by fighting both with horse and foot 
against his majesty's foot only, the greatest part of his horse 
being wedged up in the town. And when the foot were de- 
feated, a part of his majesty's horse fought afterwards against 
both the enemy's horse and foot upon great disadvantage. 
And as they had few persons of condition among them to lose, 
so no rebels but Quartermaster-General Mosely and one Cap- 
tain Jones were worth taking notice of to be slain in this 
battle. 

At Sudbury-gate (I know not whether by accident or on 



BOSCOBEL. 

[lurpose) a cart laden with ainniiiiiition v»^as ovcrtlirovvn and 
lay across the passage, one of the oxen that drew it being 
there killed ; so that his majesty could not ride into the town, 
but was forced to dismount and come in on foot. 

The rebels soon after stormed the fort royal (the fortifica- 
tions whereof were not perfected), and put all the Scots they 
found therein to the sword. 

In the Friars-street his majesty put off his armour (which 
was heavy and troublesome to him), and took a fresh horse ; 
and then perceiving many of his foot soldiers began to throw 
down their arms and decline fighting, he rode up and down 
among them, sometimes with his hat in his hand, entreating 
them to stand to their arms and fight like men, other whiles 
encouraging them, alleging the goodness and justice of the 
cause they fought for ; but seeing himself not able to prevail, 
said, '' I had rather you would shoot me, than keep me alive 
to see the sad consequences of this fatal day." So deep a 
sense had his prophetic soul of the miseries of his beloved 
country, even in the midst of his own danger. 

During this hot engagement at Perry wood and Kedhill, the 
rebels on the other side the water possessed themselves of St. 
John's ; and a brigade of his majesty's foot which were there, 
under the command of Major-General DalieL without any 
great resistance, laid down their arms and craved quarter. 

When some of the enemy were entered, and entering the 
town both at the Key, Castle-hill, and Sudbury-gate, without 
any conditions, the Earl of Cleveland, Sir James Hamilton, 
Colonel Thomas Wogan, Colonel William Carlis (then major 
to the Lord Talbot), Lieut. -Colonel John Slaughter, Captain 
Thomas Ilornyold, Ca])tain Thomas Giff"ard, Captain John 
Astley, Mr. Peter Blount, and Captain Richard Kemble (cap- 
tain-lieutenant to the Lord Talbot), and some others, rallied 
what force they could (though inconsiderable to the rebels' 
numbers), and charged the enemy very gallantly both in Sud- 
Ijury-street and High-street, where Sir James and Captain 
Kemble were desperately wounded, and others slain; yet this 
::ction did nmch secure his mnjesty's march out at St. Mar- 
tin's-gate, who had otherwise been in danger of being taken 
in the town. 

About the same time, the Earl of Rothes, Sir William 



BOSCOBEL. 491 



Hamilton, and Colonel Drummond, with a party of Scots- 
maintained the Castle-liill with much resolution, till such time 
as conditions were agreed on for quarter. 

Lastly, some of his majesty's English army valiantly op- 
posed the rebels at the Town-hall, where Mr. Coningsby 
Colles and some others were slain ; Mr. John Rumney, Mr. 
Charles Wells, and others, taken prisoners ; so that the rebels 
having in the end subdued all their opponents, fell to jDlunder- 
ing the city unmercifully, few or none of the citizens escaping 
but such as were of the fanatic party. 

When his majesty sav/ no hope of rallying his thus dis- 
comfited foot, he marched out of Worcester, at St. Martin's- 
gate (the Fore-gate being mured up), about six of the clock 
in the evening, with his main body of horse, as then com- 
manded by General David Lesley, but were now in some con- 
fusion. 

The Lord St. Clare, with divers of the Scottish nobility and 
gentry, were taken ])risoners in the town; and the foot-soldiers 
(consisting most of Scots) were almost all either slain or taken, 
and such of them who in the battle escaped death lived but 
longer to die, for the most part, more miserably, many of 
them being afterwards knocked on the head by country 
people, some bought and sold like slaves for a small price, 
others went begging up and down, till, charity failing them, 
their necessities brought upon them diseases, and diseases 
death. 

Before his majesty was come to Barbon s-bridge, about half 
a mile out of Worce'ster, he made several stands, faced about, 
and desired the Duke of Buckingham, Lord Wilmot, and 
other of his commanders, that they might rally and try the 
fortune of war once more. But at the bridge a serious con- 
sultation was held ; and then perceiving many of the troopers 
to throw off their arms and shift for themselves, they were all 
of opimon the day was irrecoverably lost, and that their only 
remaining work was to save the king from those ravenous 
wolves and regicides. Whereupon his majesty, by advice of 
his council, resolved to march with all speed for Scotland, 
following therein the steps of King David, his great prede- 
cessor in royal patience, who, finding himself in circumstances 
not unlike to these, " said to all his servants that were with 



112 



BOSCOUKL. 



liiiii :tt Jenisalein, Arise and let us fly; for we shall not else 
escape from Absalom : make speed to depart, lest he overtake 
us suddenly, and bring evil upon us, and smite the city with 
the edge of the sword/'- 

Immediately after this result, the duke asked the Lord 
Talbot (being of that country) if he could direct the way 
northwards. His lordship answered, that he had one Richard 
Walker in his troop (formerly a scout-master in those parts, 
and who since died in Jamaica) that knew the way well, who 
was accordingly called to be the guide, and perjformed that 
duty for some miles; but being come to Kinver-heath, not 
iar from Kidderminster, and daylight being gone, Walker 
was at a puzzle in the way. 

Here his majesty made a stand, and consulted with the 
duke. Earl of Derby, Lord Wilmot, &c. to what place he 
might march, at least to take some hours' rest. The Earl of 
Derby told his majesty, that in his flight from Wiggan to 
Worcester he had met with a perfect honest man, and a great 
convenience of concealment at Boscobel House (before inen- 
tioned), but withal acquainted the king it was a recusant's 
house ; and it was suggested, that those people (being accus- 
tomed to persecution and searches) were most like to have the 
readiest means and safest contrivances to preserve him : his 
majesty therefore inclined to go thither. 

The Lord Talbot being made acquainted therewith, and 
finding Walker dubious of the way, called for Mr. Charles 
Giffard (a faithful subject, and of the ancient family of Cliil- 
lington) to be his majesty's conductor, which office Mr. Gijafard 
willingly undertook, having one Yates, a servant, with him, 
very expert in the ways of that country ; and being come 
near Sturbridge, it was under consideration whether his ma- 
jesty should march through that town or no, and resolved in 
the affirmative, and that all about his person should speak 
French, to prevent any discovery of his majesty s presence. 

Meantime General Lesley, with the Scottish horse, had, 
in the close of the evening, taken the more direct way north- ; 
ward, by Newport, his majesty being left only attended by the 
Duke of Buckinirliam, Earl of Derby, Earl of Lauderdale, 
Lord Talbot, Lord Wilmot, Col. Thomas Blague, Col. Edward 
* 2 Snin xv. M. 



BOSCOBEI^ 4.93 

RoscaiTock, j\ir. Marmaduke Darcj, Mi\ Richard Lane, Mr. 
William Armorer (since knighted), Mr. Hugh May, Mr. 
Charles Giffard, Mr. Peter Street, and some others, in all about 
sixty horse. 

At a house about a mile beyond Sturbridge, his majesty 
drank, and ate a crust of bread, the house affording no better 
provision ; and as his majesty rode on, he discoursed with 
Colonel Roscarrock touching Boscobel House, and the means 
of security which the Earl of Derby and he found at that 
place. 

However, Mr. Giffard humbly proposed to carry his majesty 
first to White Ladies (another seat of the Giffards), lying but 
half a mile beyond Boscobel, where he might repose himself 
for a while, and then take such farther resolution as his ma- 
jesty and council should think fit. 

This house is distant about twenty-six miles from Worcester, 
and still retains the ancient name of White Ladies, from its 
having formerly been a monastery of Cistercian nuns, whoso 
habit was of that colour. 

His majesty and his retinue (being safely conducted thither 
by Mr. Giffard) alighted, now, as they hoped, out of danger 
of any present surprise by pursuits ; George Penderel (who 
was a servant in the house) opened the doors ; and after his 
majesty and the lords were entered the house, his majesty *s 
horse was brought into the hall, and by this time it was about 
break of day on Thursday morning. Here every one was in 
a sad consult how to escape the fury of blood-thirsty enemies ; 
but the greatest solicitude was to save the king, who was both 
hungry and tired with this long and hasty march. 

Mr. Giffard presently sent for Richard Penderel, who lived 
near hand at Hobbal Grange ; and Col. Roscarrock caused 
Bartholomew Martin, a boy in the house, to be sent to Bos- 
cobel for William Penderel; meantime Mistress Giffard 
brought his majesty some sack and biscuit ; for " the king, 
and all the people that were with him, came weary, and re- 
freshed themselves there." * Richard came first, and was im- 
mediately sent back to bring a suit of his clothes for the king ; 
and by that time he arrived with them, William came, and 
both were brought into the parlour to the Earl of Derby, who 
* 2 Sam. xvi. 14. 



^'^■^ nosronjcL. 



mmeJ.atoly came, them into an inner parlonr (;yl,ere the 
king was), and told AVillian. Pcndeicl, "Tliis is the kin-" 
pointing to h.s majesty; "thou must have a care of him, ami 
preserve lum as thou didst me." And Mr. Giffard did also 
much conjure Richard to have a special care of his charcve- 

wi'- ". 7vT"T'^V^ *'''^ ^'°^^''''' .y'^^l'^ed ready obe<Iiei"ce. 
^ n St R.clmrd and William were thus sent for, his majesty 
ha. been advised to rub his hands on the back of the chimney 
and with them his face, for a disguise, and some person had' 
.l.sorderly cut off his hair. His majesty having put off his 
garter blue riband, George of diamonds, buff-coat, and other 
princely ornaments, committed his watch to the custody of the 
Lord Wi mot, and his George to Col. Blague, and distributed 
the gold he had m his pocket among his servants, and then 
put on a noggen coarse shirt, which was borrowed of Edward 
Martin who lived in the house, and Richard Penderel's green 
suit and leather doublet, but had not time to be so dis-uised 
as he was afterwards, for both William and Richard Penderel 
did advertise the company to make haste away, in regard there 
was a troop of rebels commanded by Colonel Ashenhurst, 
quartered at Cotsal, but three miles distant, some of which 
troop came to the house within half an hour after the dissolu- 
tion of the royal troop. « Thus David and his men departed 
out ot KciJah, and went withersoever they could ^o " * 

Richard Penderel conducted the king out at a^ back-door, 
unknown to most of the company (except some of the lords 
an< Col. Roscarrock, who, with sad hearts, but hearty prayers, 
took leave of him), and carried him into an adjacent wood be- 
longing to Boscobel, called Spring Coppice, about half a mile 
from White Ladies (where "ho abode, as David did in the 
wildei^ness of Ziph, in a wood"t), whilst William, Humphrey, 
and George were scouting abroad to bring what news they 
could learn to his majesty in the coppice, as occasion required. 

His majesty being thus, as they hoped, in a way of security, 
the duke. Earl of Derby, Earl of Lauderdale, Lord Talbot 
and the rest (having Mr. Giffard for their guide, and bein^. 
then not above forty horse, of which number his majesty's 
pad-nag was one, rid.len by Mr. Richard Lane, one of the 
grooms of the bed-chamber), marched from White Ladies 
* 1 .Sam. xxii!. 13. f Ibid. 15. 



BOSCOBEL 49/> 

northwards by the way of Newport, in hope to overtake or 
meet General Lesley with the main body cf Scotch horse. 

As soon as they were got into the road, the Lord Leviston 
(who commanded his majesty's life-guard) overtook them, 
pursued by a party of rebels under the command of Colonel 
Blundel : the lords with their followers faced about, fought, 
and repelled them ; but when they came a little beyond New- 
port, some of Colonel Lilburn s men miet them in the front, 
other rebels, from Worcester, pursued in the rear ; themselves 
and horses being sufficiently tired, the Earl of Derby, Earl of 
Lauderdale, Mr. Charles Giffard, and some others, were taken 
and carried prisoners, first to Whitchurch, and from thence to 
an inn in Bunbury, in Cheshire, where Mr. GifFard found 
means to make an escape ; but the noble Earl of Derby was 
thence conveyed to Westchester, and there tried by a pre- 
tended court-martial, held the 1st of October, 1651, by virtue 
of a commission from Cromwell, grounded on an execrable 
rump-act, of the 12th of August, then last past, the very title 
whereof cannot be mentioned without horror ; but it pretended 
most traitorously to prohibit correspondence with Charles 
Stuart (their lawful sovereign), under penalty of high treason, 
loss of life and estate, . Prodigious rebels ! 

In this Black Tribunal there sat, as Judges, t/iese j'^'^sons, and under 
these titles : 
Colonel Humphrey Mackworth, president 
Major-General Mitton. 
Colonel Robert Duckenfield. 
Colonel Henry Bradshaw. 
Colonel Thomas Croxton. 
Colonel George Twisleton. 
Lieutenant- Colonel Henry Birkenhead. 
Lieutenant-Colonel Simon Finch. 
Lieutenant- Colonel Alexander Newton, 
Captain James Stepford. 
Captain Samuel Smith. 
Captain John Downes. 
Captain Vincent Corbet. 
Captain John Delves. 
Captain John Griffith. 
Captain Thomas Portington 
Captain Edward Alcock. 
Captain Ralph Pownall. 
Captain Richard Grantham. 
Captain Edward Stelfax. 



4 Mo* BOSCOBEL. 

THEIR CRUEL SENTENCE. 

'• Resolved hji tlie Court upoji the question : That James, 
Earl of Derby, is guilty of the breach of the act of the 12th 
of August, 1651, last past, intituled, 'An Act prohibiting Cor- 
respondence with Charles Stuart or his Party,' and so of high 
treason against the commonwealth of England, and is there- 
fore worthy of death. 

" Resolved hy the Court : That the said James, Earl of 
Derby, is a traitor to the commonwealth of England, and an 
abetter, encourager, and assister of the declared traitors and 
enemies thereof, and shall be put to death by severing his 
head from his body, at the market-place in the town of Bolton, 
in Lancashire, upon Wednesday, the 15th day of this instant 
October, about the hour of one of the clock the same day." 

This was the authority, and some of these the persons, that 
so barbarously, and contrary to the law of nations, condemned 
this noble earl to death, notwithstanding his just plea, " That 
he had quarter for life given him by one Captain Edge, who 
took him prisoner." But this could not obtain justice, nor any 
intercession, mercy; so that on the 15th of the said October 
he was accordingly beheaded at Bolton, in a most barbarous 
and inhuman manner.'^' 

The Earl of Lauderdale, with several others, were carried 
prisoners to the Tower, and afterwards to Windsor Castle, 
where they continued divers years. 

Whilst the rebels were plundering those noble persons, the 
duke, with the Lord Leviston, Colonel Blague, Mr. Marma- 
duke Darcy, and Mr. Hugh May, forsook tlie road first, and 
soon after their horses, and betook themselves to a by-way, 
and got into Bloore Park, near Chcswardine, about five miles 
from Newport, where they received some refreshment at a 
little obscure house of Mr. George Barlow's, and afterwards 
met with two honest labourers, in an adjoining wood, to whom 
they communicated the exigent and distress which the fortune 
of war had reduced them to ; and finding them like to prove 
faithful, the duke thought fit to imitate his royal master, de- 
livered his George (which was given him by the Queen of 

* See the proceedings against him at large, with his prayers before his 
death, and his speech and courageous deportment on the scaffold, in Eng^ 
land's Black Trihniinl, 5th edit. p. loG, &c. 



BOSCOBEL- 497 

England) to Mr. May (wlio preserved it through all difficulties, 
and afterwards restored it to his grace in Holland), and 
changed habit with one of the workmen ; and in this disguise, 
by the assistance of Mr. Barlow and his wife, was, after some 
days, conveyed by one Nich. Matthews, a carpenter, to the 
house of Mr. Hawley, a hearty cavalier, at Bilstrop, in Not- 
tinghamshire, from thence to the Lady Yilliars's house at 
Booksby, in Leicestershire ; and after many hardships and 
encounters, his grace got secure to London, and from thence 
to his majesty in France. 

At the same time the Lord Leviston, Colonel Blague, Mr. 
Darcy, and Mr. May, all quitted their horses, disguised them- 
selves, and severally shifted for themselves, and seme of them, 
through various dangers and sufferings, contrived their escapes; 
in particular, Mr. May was forced to lie twenty-one days in a 
hay-mow belonging to one John Bold, an honest husbandman, 
who lived at Soudley : Bold having all that time rebel soldiers 
quartered in his house, yet failed not to give a constant relief 
to his more welcome guest ; and when the coast was clear of 
soldiers, Mr. May came to London on foot in his disguise. 

The Lord Talbot (seeing no hope of rallying) hasted towards 
his father's house at Longford, near Newport; where being 
arrived, he conveyed his horse into a neighbouring barn, but 
was immediately pursued by the rebels, who found the horse 
saddled, and by that concluded my lord not to be far off, so 
that they searched Longford House narrowly, and some of 
them continued in it four or five days, during all which time 
my lord was in a close place in one of the out-houses, almost 
stifled for want of air, and had perished for want of food, had 
he not been once relieved in the dead of the night, and with 
much difficulty, by a trusty servant ; yet his lordship thought 
it a great providence, even by these hardships, to escape the 
fury of such enemies, who sought the destruction of the no- 
bility, as well as of their king. 

In this interim the valiant Earl of Cleveland (who, being 
above sixty years of age, had marched twenty-one days toge- 
ther upon a trotting horse), had also made his escape from 
Worcester, when all the fighting work was over, and was got 
to Woodcot, in Shropshire, whither he was pursued, and taken 
at or near Mistress Broughton's house, from whence he was 

2 K 



4JJ8 BOSCOBEL. I 

carrie«l prisoner to Stafford, and from thence to tlie Tower of 
London. 

Colonel Blague, remaining at Mr. Barlow's bouse at Bloor- 
pij)e, abont eight miles from Stafford, bis first action was, with 
Mistress Barlow's privity and advice, to hide his majesty's 
George nnder a heap of chips and dust ; yet the colonel could 
not conceal himself so well, but that he was here, soon after, 
taken and carried prisoner to Stafford, and. from thence con- 
veyed to the Tower of London. Meantime the George was 
transmitted to Mr. Hobert Mil ward, of Stafford, for better 
security, who afterwards faithfully conveyed it to Colonel 
Blague in the Tower, by the trusty hands of Mr. Isaac 
Walton ; and the colonel not long after happily escaping 
thence, restored it to his majesty's own hands, which had been 
thus wonderfully preserved from being made a prize to sordid 
rebels. 

The Scotch cavalry (having no place to retreat unto nearer 
than Scotland) were soon after dispersed, and most of them 
taken by the rebels and country people in Cheshire, Lanca- 
shire, and parts adjacent. 

Thus was this royal army totally subdued, thus dispersed; 
and if in this so important an affair, any of the Scottish com- 
manders were treacherous at Worcester (as some suspected), 
he has a great account to make for the many years' miseries 
that ensued thereby to both nations, under the tyrannical, 
usurped government of Cromwell. 

But to return to the duty of my attendance on his sacred 
majesty in Spring Coppice. By that time Richard Penderel 
had conveyed him into the obscurest part of it, it was about 
sunrising on Thursday morning, and the heavens wept bitterly 
at these calamities, insomuch as the thickest tree in the wocd 
wa.s not able to keep his majesty dry, nor was there any thing 
for him to sit on ; wherefore Richard v/cnt to Francis Yates's 
house (a trusty neighbour, who married liis wife's sister), 
where he borrowed a blanket, which he folded and laid on the 
ground under a tree for his majesty to sit on. 

At the same time Richard spoke to the good-wife Yates to 
provide some victuals, and bring it into the wood at a place 
he appointed her. She presently made ready a mess of milk, 
and some butter and e.^'gs, and brought thcin to his majesty in 



BCVSCOBEL. 49 

the wood, who, being a little surprised to see tbc woman (no 
good concealer of a secret), said cheerfully to her, " Good 
woman, can you be faithful to a distressed cavalier ? " She 
answered, " Yes, Sir, I will rather die than discover you/' 
With which answer his majesty was well satisfied, and 
received from her hands, as David did from Abigail's, " that 
which she brought him." '^' 

The Lord Wilmot in the interim took John Penderel for hia 
guide, but knew not determinately whither to go, purposing 
at first to have marched northwards ; but as they passed by 
Brewood forge, the forgemen made after them, till being told 
by one Rich. Dutton that it was Colonel Crompton whom 
they pursued, the Yulcans happily, upon that mistake, 
quitted the chase. 

Soon after they narrowly escaped a party of rebels as they 
passed by Covenbrook ; so that seeing danger on every side, 
and John meeting with William Walker (a trusty neighbour), 
committed my lord to his care and counsel, who for the present 
conveyed them into a dry marl-pit, where they staid a while, 
and afterwards to one Mr. Huntbache's house at Brinsford, 
and put their horses into John Evans's barn, whilst John 
Penderel goes to Wolverhampton, to see what convenience he 
could find for my lord's coming thitherj but met with none, 
the town being full of soldiers. 

Yet John leaves no means unessayed. hastens to Northcot 
(an adjacent village), and there, whilst he was talking with 
good- wife Underbill (a neighbour), in the instant Mr. John 
Huddleston (a sojourner at Mr. Thomas Whitgreave's, of 
Moseley, and of John's acquaintance) was accidentally passing 
by, to whom John (well assured of his integrity) presently 
addresses himself and his business, relates to him the sad news 
of the defeat of his majesty's army at Worcester, and dis- 
covers in what strait and confusion he had left his majesty 
and his followers at White Ladies, and in particular, that he 
had brought thence a person of quality (for John then knew 
not who my lord w^as; to Huntbache's house, who, without 
present relief, would be in great danger of being taken. 

Mr. Huddleston goes home forthwith, takes John with him, 
and acquaints Mr. Whitgreave with the business, who freely 
* 1 Sam. XXV. 35. 
2 K 2 



500 BOSCOIJKL. 

resolved to venture all, rather tlum such a person should mis* 
carry. 

IIereu])on JMr. AVhitgreave repairs to Huntbaclie's house, 
speaks with my lord, and gives direction how he should bo 
privately conveyed into his house at Moseley, about ten of the 
clock at night ; and though it so fell out that the directions 
.were not punctually observed, yet my lord and his man were 
at last brought into the house, where Mr. Whitgreave (after 
some refreshment given them), conveys them into a secret 
place, which my lord admiring for its excellent contrivance, 
and solicitous for his majesty's safety, said, " I would give a 
world my friend,'' meaning the king, " were here ; " and then 
(being abundantly satisfied of Mr. Whitgreave's fidelity) de- 
posited in his hands a little bag of jewels, which my lord re- 
ceived again at his departure. 

As soon as it was day, Mr. Whitgreave sent William 
Walker with my lord's horses to his neighbour. Colonel John 
Lane, of Bentley, near Walsall, south-east from Moseley 
about four miles (whom Mr. Whitgreave knew to be a right 
honest gentleman, and ready to contribute any assistance to 
60 charitable a w^ork), and wished Walker to acquaint the 
colonel that they belonged to some eminent person about the 
king, whom he could better secure than the horses. The 
colonel v/iliingly receives them, and sends word to Mr. Whit- ' 
greave to meet him that night in a close not far from Moseley, 
in order to the tender of farther service to the owner of the 
horses, whose name neither the colonel nor Mr. Whitgreave 
yet knew. 

On Thursday night, when it grew dark, his majesty re- 
solved to go from those parts into Wales, and to talce Richard 
Penderel with him for his guide; but, before they began their 
'ourney, his majesty went into Hichard's house at Hobbal 
Grange, where the old good-wife Penderel had not only the 
honour to see his majesty, but to see him attended by her son 
Ilichard. Here his majesty had time and means better to 
complete his disguise. His name was agreed to be Will. 
Jones, and his Jirms a wood-bill. In this posture, about nine 
o'clock at night (after some refreshment taken in the house), 
his majesty, with his trusty servant Richard, began their 
journey on foot, resolving to go that night to Madeley, in 



BUSCOUEL. 501 

Shropshire, about five miles from White Ladies, and within a 
mile of the river Severn, over which their way lay for Wales. 
In this village lived one Mr. Francis "Woolf, an honest gen- 
tleman of Richard's acquaintance. 

His majesty had nut been long gone, but the Lord Wilmot 
sent John Penderel from Mr. Whitgreave's to White Ladies 
and Boscobel, to know in what security the king was. John 
returned and acquainted my lord that his majesty wah 
marched from thence. Hereupon my lord began to consider 
which way himself should remove with safety. 

Colonel Lane having secured my lord's horses, and being 
come to Moseley, according to appointment, on Friday night, 
was brought up to my lord by Mr. Whitgreave, and (after 
mutual salutation) acquainted him that his sister, Mrs. Jane 
Lane, had by accident procured a pass from some commander 
of the rebels for herself and a man to go a little beyond Bris- 
tol, to see Mrs. Norton, her special friend, then near her time 
of lying in, and freely ofi'ered, if his lordship thought fit, he 
might make use of it; which my lord seemed inclinable to 
accept, and on Saturday night was conducted by Colonel 
Lane's man (himself not being well) to the colonel's house at 
Bentley ; his lordship then, and not before, discovering his 
name to Mr. Whitgreave, and giving him many thanks for so 
great a kindness in so imminent a danger. 

Before his majesty came to Madeley, he met with an ill- 
favoured encounter at Evelin Mill, being about two miles 
from thence. The miller (it seems) was an honest man, but 
his majesty and Richard knew it not, and had then in his 
house some considerable persons of his majesty's army, who 
took shelter there in their flight from Worcester, and had not 
been long in the mill, so that the miller was upon his watch ; 
and Richard unhappily permitting a gate to clap, through 
which they passed, gave occasion to the miller to come out of 
the mill and boldly ask, " Who is there ? " Richard, thinking 
the miller had pursued them, quitted the usual way in some 
haste, and led his majesty over a little brook, which they were 
forced to wade through, and which contributed much towards 
the galling his majesty's feet, who (as he afterwards pleasantly 
observed) was here in some danger of losing his guide, but 
that the rustlinir of Ricliarcl's cn.lf-skin breeches was the 



502 BOSCOBEL. 

best direction his nmjcsty \vu\ to follow him in that dark 
night. 

They arrived at Madeley about midnight; Richard goes to 
3[r. AVoolf*s house, where they were all in bed, knocks them 
up, and acquaints Mr. Woolf's daughter (who came to the 
door) that the king was there, who presently received him into 
the house, where his majesty refreshed himself for some time; 
but understanding the rebels kept several guards upon Severn, 
and it being feared that some of their party (of which many 
frequently passed through the town) might quarter at tlie 
house (as had often happened), it was apprehended unsafe for 
his majesty to lodge in the house (which aflforded no secret 
place for concealment), but rather to retire into a barn near ad- 
joining, as less liable to the danger of a surprise ; wdiither his 
majesty went accordingly, and continued in a hay-mow there 
all the day following, his servant Richard attending him. 

During his majesty's stay in the barn, Mr. Woolf had often 
conference with him about his intended journey, and in order 
thereto took care, by a trusty servant (sent abroad for that 
purpose), to inform himself more particularly of those guards 
upon Severn, and had certain word brought him, that not 
only the bridges were secured, but all the passage-boats seized 
on, insomuch that he conceived it very hazardous for his ma- 
jesty to prosecute his design for Wales, but rather go to Bos- 
cobel House, being the most retired place for concealment in 
all the country, and to stay there till an opportunity of a far- 
ther safe conveyance could be found out ; which advice his 
majesty inclined to apj)rove, and thereupon resolved for Bos- 
cobel the night following. In the mean time, his hands not 
appearing sufficiently discoloured, suitable to his other dis- 
guise, IMrs. Woolf provided walnut-tree leaves, as the readiest 
expedient for that purpose. 

The day being over, his majesty adventured to come again 
into the house, where having for some time refreshed himself, 
and being furnished with conveniences for his journey (which 
was conceived to be safer on foot than by horse), he, with his 
faithful guide Richard, about eleven o'clock "at night, set forth 
toward Boscobel. 

About three of the clock on Saturday morning, being come 
near the house, Richard left his majesty in the wood, whilst he 



BOSGOBEL. 503 

T/ent in to see if any soldiers were there, or other danger; 
where he found Colonel William Carlis (who had seen, not 
the last man born, but the last man killed, at Worcester), and 
who, having with much difficulty made his escape from thence, 
was got into his own neighbourhood, and for some time con- 
cealing himself in Boscobel Wood, was come that morning to 
the house, to get some relief of William Penderel, his old ac- 
quaintance. 

Richard having acquainted the colonel that the king was in 
the wood, the colonel, with William and Richard, went pre- 
sently thither to give their attendance, where they found his 
majesty sitting on the root of a tree, who was glad to see the 
colonel, and came with them into the house, where he ate bread 
and cheese heartily, and (as an extraordinary) William Pen- 
derel's wife made his majesty a posset of thin milk and small 
beer, and got ready some warm water to wash his feet, not 
only extremely dirty, but much galled with travel. 

The colonel pulled off his majesty's shoes, which were full 
of gravel, and stockings, which were very wet ; and there 
being no other shoes in the house that would fit him, the 
good- wife put some hot embers in those to dry them, whilst 
his majesty's feet were washing and his stockings shifted. 

Being thus a little refreshed, the colonel persuaded his 
majesty to go back into the wood (supposing it safer than the 
house), where the colonel made choice of a thick-leaved oak, 
into which William and Richard helped them both up, and 
brought them such provision as they could get, with a cushion 
for his majesty to sit on ; the colonel humbly desired his ma- 
jesty (who had taken little or no rest the two preceding 
nights) to seat himself as easily as he could in the tree, and 
rest his head on the colonel's lap, who was watchful that his 
majesty might not fall. In this oak they continued most part 
of the day ; and in that posture his majesty slumbered away 
some part of the time, and bore all these hardships and afflic- 
tions with incomparable patience. 

In the evening they returned to the house, where Yv^iliiam 
Penderel acquainted his majesty with the secret place wherein 
the Earl of Derby had been secured, which his majesty liked 
so well, that he resolved, whilst he staid there, to trust only 



504 BOSCOBKL. 

to that, and go no more into tiie royal oak, as from hence it 
must be called, where he could not so much as sit at ease. 

His majesty now finding himself in a hopeful security, per- 
mitted William Penderel to shave him, and cut the hair off 
his head as short at top as the scissors would do it, but leav- 
ing some about the ears, according to the country mode ; Col. 
Carlis attending, told his majesty, " William was but a mean 
barber ;'* to which his majesty answered, " He had never been 
shaved by any barber before." The king bade William burn 
the hair which he cut oflf; but William was only disobedient 
in that, for he kept a good part of it, wherewith he has since 
pleasured some persons of honour, and is kept as a civil relic. 
Humphrey Penderel was this Saturday designed to go to 
Shefnal, to pay some taxes to one Captain Broadway ; at 
whose house he met with a colonel of the rebels, who was 
newly come from Worcester in pursuit of the king, and who, 
being informed that his majesty had been at White Ladies, 
and that Humphrey was a near neighbour to the j^lace, exa- 
mined him strictly, and laid before him, as w^ell the penalty 
for concealing the king, which was death without mercy, as 
the reward for discovering him, which should be one thousand 
pounds certain pay. But neither fear of punishment, nor 
hope of reward, was able to tempt Humphrey into any disloy- 
alty ; he pleaded ignorance, and was dismissed, and on Satur- 
day night related to his majesty and the loyal colonel at 
Boscobel what had passed betwixt him and the rebel colonel 
at Shefnal. 

This night the good- wife (whom his majesty was pleased 
to call "my dame Joan")provided some chickens for his ma- 
jesty*s sup2:>er (a dainty he had not lately been acquainted 
with), and a little pallet was put into the secret place for his 
majesty to rest in ; some of the brothers being continually 
upon duty, watching the avenues of the house, and the road- 
way, to prevent the danger of a surprise. 

After supper. Col. Carlis asked his majesty what meat he 
would please to have provided for the morrow, being Sunday ; 
his majesty desired some mutton, if it might be had. But it 
was thought dangerous for William to go to any market to 
buy it, since his neighbours all knew he did not use to buy 



BOSCOBEL. 505 

sucli for liis own diet, and so it might beget a suspicion of his 
having strangers at his house. But the colonel found another 
expedient to satisfy his majesty's desires. Early on Sunday 
morning he repairs to Mr. William Staunton's sheepcot, 
who rented some of the demesnes of Boscobel ; here he chose 
one of the best sheep, sticks him with his dagger, then sends 
William for the mutton, who brings him home on his back. 

On Sunday morning (September the 7th), his majesty got 
up early (his dormitory being none of the best, nor his bed 
the easiest), and, near the secret place where he lay, had the 
convenience of a gallery to walk in, where he was observed to 
spend some time in his devotions, and where he had the advan- 
tage of a window, which surveyed the road from Tdng to 
Brewood. Soon after his majesty coming down into the 
parlour, his nose fell a bleeding, which put his poor faithful 
servants into a great fright ; but his majesty was pleased soon 
to remove it, by telling them it often did so. 

As soon as the mutton was cold, William cut it up and 
brought a leg of it into the parlour ; his majesty called for a 
knife and a trencher, and cut some of it into collops, and 
pricked them with the knife point, then called for a frying- 
pan and butter, and fried the collops himself, of vrliich he ate 
heartily ; Col. Carlis the while being but under-cook (and 
that honour enough too), made the fire, and turned the collops 
in the pan. 

When the colonel afterwards attended his majesty in France, 
liis majesty calling to remembrance this passage among others, 
was pleased merrily to propose it, as a problematical question, 
whether himself or the colonel were the master-cook at Bosco- 
bel, and the supremacy was of right adjudged to his majesty. 
All this while the other brothers of the Penderels were, va 
their several stations, either scouting abroad to learn intelli- 
gence, or upon some other service; but it so pleased God, 
that, though the soldiers had some intelligence of his majes- 
ty's having been at White Ladies, and none that he was gone 
thence, yet this house (which proved a happy sanctuary for 
his majesty in this sad exigent) had not at all been searched 
during his majesty's abode there, though that had several 
times ; this, perhaps, the rather escaping, because the neigh- 
bours could truly inform none but poor servants lived here. 



BOG BUSCUiiLL. 

His majesty spent some ]>art of this Lord's day in reading, 
in a pretty arbour in Boscobel garden, which grew upon a 
mount, and wherein there was a stone table, and seats about 
it, and commended the place for its retiredness. 

And having understood by John Penderel that the Lord 
Wilniot was at Mr. AVhitgreave's house (for John knew not 
of liis remove to Bentley), his majesty was desirous to let my 
lord hear of him, and that he intended to come to Moseley 
that night. 

To this end, John was sent on Sunday morning to Moseley, 
but, finding my lord removed thence, was much troubled ; and 
then acquainting Mr. Whitgreave and Mr. liuddleston that 
his majesty was returned to Boscobel, and the disaccommoda- 
tion he had there, whereupon they both resolve to go with 
John to Bentley, where having gained him an access to my 
lord, his lordship designed to attend the king that night at 
3Ioseley, and desired Mr. Whitgreave to meet his lordship at 
a place appointed about twelve of the clock, and Mr. Hud- 
dleston to nominate a place where he would attend his majesty 
about one of the clock the same night. 

Upon this intelligence, my lord made stay of Mrs. Jane 
Lane's journey to Bristol, till his majesty's pleasure was 
known. 

Jolin Penderel returned to Boscobel in the afternoon, with 
intimation of this designed meeting with my lord at Moseley 
that night, and the place which was appointed by Mr. liud- 
dleston where his majesty should be expected. But his 
majesty, having not recovered his late foot journey to Madeley, 
was not able without a horse to perform this to Moseley, which 
was about five miles distant from Boscobel, and near the mid- 
way from thence to Bentley. 

It was therefore concluded that his majesty should ride 
upon rium])hrcy Ponderers mill-horse (for Humphrey was the 
miller of White Ladies mill). The horse was taken up from 
grass, and accoutred, not with rich trappings or furniture, 
befitting so great a king, but with a pitiful old saddle, and a 
worse bridle. 

When his majesty was ready to take horse, Colonel Carlis 
humbly took leave of him, being so well known in the country, 
that his attendance upon his majesty would in all probability 



BOSCOBEL. 507 

have proved rather a disservice than otherwise ; however, his 
Iiearty prayers were not wanting for his majesty's pre- 
servation. 

Thus then his majesty was mounted, and thus he rode 
towards Moseley, attended by all the honest brothers, William, 
John, Richard, Humphrey, and George Penderel, and Francis 
Yates ; each of these took a bill or pike-staff on his back, and 
some of them had pistols in their pockets ; two marched before, 
and one on each side his majesty's horse, and two came behind 
aloof off; their design being this, that in case they should have 
been questioned or encountered but by five or six troopers, or 
such like small party, they would have shewn their valour in 
defending, as well as they had done their fidelity in otherwise 
serving his majesty; and though it was midnight, yet they 
conducted his majesty through by-ways, for better security. 

After some experience had of the horse, his majesty com- 
plained, " it was the heaviest dull jade he ever rode on ; " to 
which Humphrey (the owner of him) answered (beyond the 
usual capacity of a miller), " My liege, can you blame the 
horse to go heavily, when he has the weight of three kingdoms 
on his back ? " 

When his majesty came to Penford mill, v/ithin two miles 
of Mr. Whitgreave's house, his guides desired him to alight 
and go on foot the rest of the way, for more security, the foot- 
way being the more secure, and the nearer ; and at last they 
arrived at the place appointed by Mr. Huddleston (which was 
a little grove of trees, in a close of Mr. Whitgreave's, called 
the Pit-Leasow), in order to his majesty's being privately 
conveyed into Mr. Whitgreave's house ; William, Humphrey, 
and George returned with the horse, the other three attended 
his majestjT' to the house ; but his majesty, being gone a little 
way, had forgot (it seems) to bid farewell to William and the 
rest who were going back, so he called to them and said, "My 
troubles make me forget myself; I thank you all ! '* and gave 
them his hand to kiss. 

The Lord Wilmot, in pursuance of his own appointment, 
came to the meeting-place precisely at his hour, where Mr. 
Whitgreave received him, and conveyed him to his old 
chamber ; but hearing nothing of the king at his prefixed time 
gave occasion to suspect some misfortune might have befallen 



50 S J;u:>Lui,..L. 

him, tlioui^li the night was very dark and rainy, which might 
possibly be the occasion of so long stay ; Mr. Whitgreave 
therefore leaves my lord in his chamber, and goes to Pit-Les- 
sow, where Mr. Hnddleston attended his majesty's coming ; 
and about two hours after the time appointed his majesty came, 
wliom Mr. Whitgreave and Mr. Huddlcston conveyed, with 
much satisfaction, into tlie house to my lord, who expected 
him with great solicitude, and presently kneeled down and 
embraced his majesty's knees, who kissed my lord on the 
cheek, and asked him earnestly, " What is become of Buck- 
ingham, Cleveland, and others ?" To which my lord could 
give little satisfaction, but hoped they were in safety. 

My lord soon after (addressing himself to Whitgreave and 
Mr. Huddleston) said, " Though I have concealed my friend's 
name all this while, now I must tell you, this is my master, 
your master, and the master of us all," not knowing that they 
understood it was the king ; whereupon his majesty was 
jdeased to give his hand to Mr. Whitgreave and Mr. Huddle- 
ston to kiss, and told them he had received such an account 
from my Lord Wilmot of their fidelity, that he should never 
fo]*get it ; and presently asked Mr. Whitgreave, " Where is 
your secret place ?" which being shewn his majesty, he was 
well pleased therewith, and returning into my lord's chamber, 
sat down on the bed-side, where his nose fell a bleeding, and 
then pulled out of his pocket a handkerchief, suitable to the 
rest of his apparel, both coarse and dirty. 

His majesty's attire, as was before observ^ed in jmrt, was 
then a leathern doublet, with pewter buttons, a pair of old 
green breeches, and a jumj)-coat (as the country calls it) of 
the same green, a pair of his own stockings, with the tops cut 
off, because embroidered, and a pair of stirrup stockings, 
which were lent him at Madeley, and a pair of old shoes, cut 
and slashed to give ease to his feet, an old grey greasy hat, 
without a lining, a noggen shirt of the coarsest linen ; his 
face and his hands made of a reechy complexion, by the help 
of the walnut-tree leaves. 

]Mr. Huddleston, observing the coarseness of his majesty's 
iAi'irt to disease him much and hinder his rest, asked my lord 
if the king would be be pleased to change his shirt, which 
)ji.s majesty condescended unto, and presently put off his 



BOSCOBEL. 509 

coarse sliirt and put on a flaxen one of Mr. Huddleston's, wlia 
pulled ofi his majesty's shoes and stockings, and put him on 
fresh stockings, and dried his feet, where he found some- 
hody had innocently, but indiscreetly, applied white paper, 
which, with going on foot from the place where his majesty 
alighted to the house, was rolled betwixt his stockings and 
bis skin, and served to increase rather than assuage the 
soreness of his feet. 

Mr. Whitgreave had by this time brought up some biscuit 
and a bottle of sack ; his majesty ate of the one, and drank a 
good glass of the other ; and, being thus refreshed, was pleased 
to say cheerfully, "I am now ready for another march ; and if it 
shall please God once more to place me at the head of but eight 
or ten thousand good men, of one mind and resolved to fight, I 
shall not doubt to drh^e these rogues out of my kingdoms." 

It was now break of the day on Monday morning, the 8th 
of September, and his majesty was desirous to take some 
rest ; to which purpose a pallet was carried into one of the 
secret places, where his majesty lay down, but rested not so 
well as his host desired, for the place was close and inconve- 
nient, and durst not adventure to put him into any bed in an 
open chamber, for fear of a surprise by the rebels. 

After some rest taken in the hole, his majesty got up, and 
was pleased to take notice of and salute Mr. Whitgreave's 
mother, and (having his place of retreat still ready) sat 
between whiles in a closet over the porch, where he might see 
those that passed the road by the house. 

Before the Lord Wilmot betook himself to his dormitory, 
he conferred with Mr. Whitgreave. and advised that himself 
or Mr. Huddleston would be always vigilant about the house, 
and give notice if any soldiers came ; " and," says this noble 
lord, " if it should so fall out that the rebels have intelligence 
of your harbouring any of the king's party, and should 
therefore put you to any torture for confession, be sure you 
discover me first, which may haply in such case satisfy them, 
and preserve the king." This was the expression and care 
of a loyal subject, worthy eternal memory. 

On Monday, his majesty and my lord resolved to despatch 
John Penderel to Colonel Lane at Bentley, with directions 
for the colonel to send my lord's horses for him that night 



.'> 1 BOSCOBEL. 

about midnight, aiul to expect liim at the usual place. My 
lord accordingly goes to Bcntley again, to make way for his 
majesty's reception there, pursuant to a resolution taken up 
by his majesty to go westward, under the protection of Mrs. 
Jane Lane's pass ; it being most probable that the rebels 
wholly pursued his majesty northwards, and would not at all 
suspect him gone into the west. 

This iMonday afternoon, Mr. Whitgreave had notice that 
some soldiers were in the neighbourhood, intending to appre- 
hend him, upon information that he had been at Worcester 
fight. The king was then lain down upon Mr. Iluddleston's 
bed, but Mr. Whitgreave presently secures his royal guest in 
the secret place, and my lord also, leaves open all the chamber 
doors, and goes boldly down to the soldiers, assuring them (as 
his neighbours also testified) that he ha4 not been from home 
in a fortnight then last past ; with which asseveration the 
soldiers were satisfied, and came not up stairs at all. 

In this interval the rebels had taken a cornet in Cheshire, 
who came in his majesty's troop to AVhite Ladies, and either by 
menaces, or some other way, had extorted this confession 
from him concerning the king (whom these bloodhounds 
sought with all possible diligence), that he came in company 
with his majesty to White Ladies, where the rebels had no 
small hopes to find him; whereupon they posted thither 
without ever drawing bit, almost killed their horses, and 
brought their faint-hearted prisoners with them. 

Being come to White Ladies on Tuesday, they called for 
Mr. George GifFiird, who lived in an apartment of the house, 
presented a pistol to his breast, and bade him confess where 
the king was, or he should presently die. Mr. Giffard was 
too loyal, and too much a gentleman, to be frighted into any 
infidelity, resolutely denies the knowing any more but that 
div^ers cavaliers came thither on Wednesday night, ate up 
their provision, and departed ; and that he was as ignorant 
who they were, as whence they came, or whither tliey went; 
and begged, if he must die, that they would first give him 
leave to say a few j)rayers. One of these villains answered, "If 
you can tell us no news of the king you shall say no prayers." 
But his discreet answer did somewhat assuage the fury of 
their leader. They \v<0'\ the like threats and violence 



BOSCOBEL. 511 

(mingled, notwitsbanding, with high promises of reward) to 
Mrs. Anne Andrew (to whose custody some of the king's 
clothes, when he first took upon him the disguise, were com- 
mitted), who (like a true virago) faithfully sustained the one, 
and loyally refused the other, which put the rebels into such 
a fury, that they searched every corner of the house, broke 
down much of the wainscot, and at last beat the intelligencer 
severely for making them lose their labours. 

During this Tuesday, in my Lord Wilmot*s absence, his 
majesty was for the most part attended by Mr. Huddleston, 
Mr. Whitgreave being much abroad in the neighbourhood, and 
Mrs. Whitgreave below stairs, both inquisitive after news, and 
the motions of the soldiery, in order to the preservation of 
their royal guest. The old gentlewoman was this day told 
by a countryman, v/ho came to her house, that he heard the 
king, upon his retreat, had beaten his enemies at Warrington 
Bridge, and that there were three kings come in to his assist- 
ance; which story she related to his majesty for divertisement, 
who smiling, answered, " Surely, they are the three kings of 
Cologne come down from heaven, for I can imagine none 
else." 

The same day his majesty out of the closet window espied 
two soldiers, who passed by the gate in the road, and told Mr. 
Huddleston he knew one of them to be a Highlander, and of 
his own regiment ; who little thought his king and colonel to 
be so near. 

And his majest}'', for entertainment of the time, was pleased 
to discourse with Mr. Huddleston the particulars of the battle 
of Worcester (the same in substance with what is before re- 
lated) ; and by some words which his majesty let fall, it 
might easily be collected that his counsels had been too often 
sooner discovered to the rebels than executed by his loyal 
subjects. 

Mr. Huddleston had under his charge young Sir John 
Preston, Mr. Thomas Playn, and Mr. Francis Reynolds ; and 
on this Tuesday in the morning (the better to conceal his 
majesty's being in the bouse, and excuse his own more than 
usual long stay above stairs) pretended himself to be indis- 
posed and afraid of the soldiers, and therefore set his scholars 
at several garret windows, and surveyed the roads, to watch 



512 BOSCOBEL. 

and give notice when tliey saw any troopers coming. This 
service the youths performed very diligently all day ; and at 
night when they were at supper, Sir John called upon his 
companions, and said (more truly than lie imagined), " Come, 
lads, let us eat lustily, for we have been upon the life-guard 
to-day/' 

This very day (September the 9th) the rebels at Westmin- 
ster (in further pursuance of their bloody designs) set forth a 
proclamation for the discovery and apprehending Charles 
Stuart (for so their frontless impudence usually styled his sa- 
cred majesty), his adherents and abetters, with promise of 
1,000/. reward to whomsoever should apprehend him (so vile 
a price they set upon so inestimable a jewel) ; and, besides, 
gave strict command to all officers of port towns, that they 
should permit no person to pass beyond sea without special 
license. "And Saul sought David everyday; but God deli- 
vered him not into his hands.*'* 

On Tuesday night, between twelve and one o'clock, the 
Lord Wilmot sent Colonel Lane to attend his majesty to 
Bentley ; Mr. Whitgreave meets the colonel at the place 
appointed, and brings him to the corner of his orchard, where 
the colonel thought fit to stay whilst Mr. Whitgreave goes in 
and acquaints the king that he was come ; whereupon his 
majesty took his leave of Mrs. Whitgreave, saluted her, and 
gave her many thanks for his entertainment, but was pleased 
to be more particular with Mr. Whitgreave and Mr. Huddle- 
ston, not only by giving them thanks, but by telling them he 
was very sensible of the dangers they might incur by enter- 
taining him, if it should chance to be discovered to the rebels ; 
therefore his majesty advised them to be very careful of them- 
selves, and gave them direction to repair to a merchant in 
London, who should have order to furnish them with moneys 
and means of conveyance beyond sea, if they thought fit. 

After his majesty had vouchsafed these gracious expres- 
sions to Mr. Whitgreave and Mr. Iluddleston, they told his 
majesty all the service they could now do him was to pray 
heartily to Almighty God for his safety and preservation ; 
and then kneeling down, his majesty gave them his hand to 
ki.<.3, and so went down stairs with them into the orchard. 
* 1 Sam. xxiii. 14. 



BOSCOUEL. 513 

wlicre Mr. Wliitgreave both humbly and faithfully delivered 
his great charge into Col. Lane's hands, telling the colonel 
who the person was he there presented to him. 

The night was both dark and cold, and his majesty's cloth- 
ing thin ; therefore Mr. Huddleston humbly offered his ma- 
jesty a cloak, which he was pleased to accept, and wore 
to Bentley, from whence Mr. Huddleston afterwards re- 
ceived it. 

As soon as Mr. Whitgreave and Mr. Huddleston heard his 
majesty was not only got safe to Bentley, but marched se- 
curely from thence, they began to reflect upon his advice, and 
lest any discovery should be made of what had been acted at 
Moseley, they both absented themselves from home ; the one 
vfent to London, the other to a friend's house in Warwick- 
shire, where they lived privately till such time as they heard 
his majesty was safely arrived in France, and that no part of 
the aforesaid transactions at Moseley had been discovered to 
the rebels, and then returned home. 

This Mr. Whitgreave was descended of the ancient family 
of the AVhitgreaves of Burton, in the county of Stafford, and 
was first a cornet, afterwards lieutenant to Captain Thomas 
GifFard, in the first war for his Majesty King Charles the 
First. 

Mr. John Huddleston was a younger brother of the re- 
nowned family of the house of Hutton-John, in the county of 
Cumberland, and was a gentleman volunteer in his late ma- 
jesty's service, first under Sir John Preston the elder, till Sir 
John was rendered unserviceable by the desperate wounds he 
received in that service, and after under Colonel Ralph Pud- 
sey at Newark. 

rlis majesty being safely conveyed to Bentley by Colonel 
Lane, staid there but a short time, took the opportunity of 
]^Irs. Jane's pass, and rode before her to Bristol, the Lord 
Wilmot attending, by another way, at a distance. In all 
which journey Mrs. Lane performed the part of a most faith- 
ful and prudent servant to his majesty, shewing her observ- 
ance when an opportunity would allow it, and at other times 
acting her part in the disguise with much discretion. 

But the particulars of his majesty's arrival at Bristol, and 
the houses of several loyal subjects, both in Somersetshire, 



514 Boscci3i:L. 

Dorsetshire, Wiltshire, llampsliirc, and so to Brighthelmstoiie, 
in Sussex, where he, on tlie 15th of October, 1G51, took ship- 
ping, and landed securely in France the next morning; and 
the several accidents, hardships, and encounters, in all that 
journey, must be the admired subject of the Second Part of 
this history. 

The very next day after his majesty left Boscobel, being 
^londay, the 8th of September, two parties of rebels came 
thither, the one being part of the county troop, who searched 
the house with some civility ; the other (Captain Broadway's 
men) did it with more severity, ate up their little store of 
provision, plundered the house of what was portable, and one 
of them presented a pistol to William Penderel, and much 
frighted my dame Joan ; yet both parties returned as igno- 
rant as they came of that intelligence they so greedily sought 
after. 

This danger being over, honest William began to think of 
making satisfaction for the fat mutton, and accordingly ten- 
dered Mr. Staunton its worth in money ; but Staunton under- 
standing the sheep was killed for the relief of some honest 
cavaliers, who had been sheltered at Boscobel, refused to take 
the money, but wished much good it might do them. 

These Penderels were of honest parentage, but mean de- 
gree, six brothers born at Hobbal Grange, in the parish of 
Tong, and county of Salop, William, John, Richard, Hum- 
phrey, Thomas, and George ; John, Thomas, and George were 
soldiers in the first war for King Charles I. Thomas was 
slain at Stow fight, William, as you have heard, was a ser- 
vant at Boscobel, Humphrey a miller, and Richard rented part 
of Hobbal Grange. 

His majesty had not been long gone from Boscobel, but 
Col. Carlis sent William Penderel to Mr. Humphrey Iron- 
monger, his ol<l friend at Wolverhampton, who not only pro- 
cured him a pass from some of the rebel commanders, in a dis- 
guised name, to go to London, but furnished him with money 
for his journey, by means whereof he got safe thither, and 
from thence into Holland, where he brought the first happy 
news of his majesty's safety to his royal sister the Princess of 
Orange. 

This Colonel William Carlis was born at Bromhall, in 



BOSCOBEL. 515 

Staffordshire, within two miles of Boscobel, of good parentage, 
was a person of approved valour, and engaged all along in the 
first war for King Charles I., of happy memory, and since his 
death was no less active for his royal son ; for which, and his 
particular service and fidelity before mentioned, his majest}'- 
was pleased, by letters patent under the great seal of Eng- 
land, to give him, by the name of William Carlos (which in 
Spanish signifies Charles), a very honourable coat of arms, 
m perpetuam rei memoriam^ as 'tis expressed in the letters 
patent. 

The oak is now properly called " The Royal Oak of Bos- 
cobel,'' nor will it lose that name whilst it continues a tree, nor 
that tree a memory whilst we have an inn left in England ; 
since the "Royal Oak" is now become a frequent sign, both 
in London and all the chief cities of this kingdom. And since 
his majesty's happy restoration, that these mysteries have 
been revealed, hundreds of people, for many miles round, have 
flocked to see the famous Boscobel, which (as you have heard) 
had once the honour to be the palace of his sacred majesty, but 
chiefly to behold the Royal Oak, which has been deprived of all 
its young boughs by the numerous visitors of it, who keep them 
in memory of his majesty's happy preservation, insomuch that 
Mr. Fitzherbert, who was afterwards proprietor, was forced in 
a due season of the year to crop part of it, for its preservation, 
and put himself to the charge of fencing it about with a high 
pale, the better to transmit the happy memory of it to pos 
terity. 

This Boscobel House has yet been a third time fortunate ; 
for after Sir George Booth's forces were routed in Cheshire, 
in August, 1659, the Lord Brereton, who was engaged with 
him, took sanctuary there for some time, and was preserved. 

When his majesty was thus happily conveyed away by 
Colonel Lane and his sister, the rebels had an intimation that 
some of the brothers were instrumental in his preservation, so 
that, besides the temptations Humphrey overcame at Shefnal, 
Wm. Penderel was twice questioned at Shrewsbury on the 
same- account by Captain Fox, and one Lluellin, a sequestra- 
tor, and Richard was much threatened by a peevish neigh- 
bour at White Ladies ; but neither threats nor temptations 
were able to batter the fort of their loyalty. 

2 L 2 



516 BOSCODKL. 

After this unliappy defeat of his majesty's army at 
AVorcester, good God ! in what strange canting language did 
the fanatics communicate their exultations to one another, 
particularly in a letter (hypocritically pretended to be written 
from the Church of Christ at Wrexham, and j)rintcd in the 
Diurnal, Nov. 10, 1651), there is this malignant expression : 
— " Christ has revealed his own arm, and broke the arm of the 
mighty once and again, and now lastly at Worcester ; so that 
we conclude (in Ezekiel's phrase) there will be found no roller 
to bind the late king's arm to hold a sword again,*' 8cc, And 
that you may know who these false prophets were, the letter 
was thus subscribed : — " Daniel Lloyd, Mor. Lloyd, John 
Brown, Edw. Taylor, An. Maddokes, Dav. Maurice ;" men 
who measured causes by that success which fell out accord- 
ing to their evil desires, not considering that God intended, 
in his own good time, "to establish the king's throne with 
justice."* 

After the " king had entered into the kingdom, and re- 
turned to his own land,"t the live brothers attended him at 
Whitehall, on Wednesday, the 13th of June, 1660, when hics 
majesty wos pleased to own their faithful service, and gra- 
ciously dismissed them with a princely reward. 

And soon after Mr. Huddleston and Mr. Whit^freave made 
their humble addresses to his majesty, from Avbom they like- 
wise received a gracious acknowledgment of their service and 
fidelity to him at Moseley, and this in so high a degree of 
gratitude, and with such a condescending frame of spirit, not 
at all puffed up with prosperity, as cannot be paralleled in the 
best of kings. 

Here let us with all glad and thankful hearts humbly con- 
template the admirable providence of Almighty God, who 
contrived such wonderful ways, and made use of such mean 
instruments, for the preservation of so great a person. Let 
us delight to reflect minutely on every particular, and espe- 
cially on such as most approach to miracle ; let us sum up the 
number of those who were privy to this first and principal part 
of his majesty's disguise and concealment. Mr. Giffard, the 
five Penderels, their mother, and three of their wives, Cojonel 

* Prov. XXV. t Dai:. 1. 9. 



BOSCOBKL. 517 

Carlos, Francis Yates, and Lis wife, divers of the inhabitants 
of White Ladies (which then held five several families), Mr. 
Woolf, his wife, son, daughter, and maid, Mr. Whitgreave 
and his mother, Mr. Huddleston, Colonel Lane and his sis- 
ter ; and then consider whether it were not indeed a miracle, 
that so many men and (which is far more) so many women 
should faithfully conceal so important and unusual a secret; 
and this notwithstanding the temptations and promises of re- 
v/ard on the one hand, and the danger and menaces of punish- 
ment on the other. 

To which I shall add but this one circumstance, that it was 
performed by persons for the most part of that religion which 
has long suffered under an imputation (laid on them by some 
mistaken zealots) of disloyalty to their sovereign. 

And now, as we have thus thankfully commemorated the 
wonderful preservation of his majesty, what remains but that 
vfe should return due thanks and praises for his no less mira- 
culous RESTORATION ? Who, after a long series of misfortunes 
and variety of afflictions, after he had been hunted to and fro 
like a " partridge upon the mountains," was, in God's due 
time, appointed to sit, as his vicegerent, upon the throne of 
his ancestors, and called forth to govern his own people when 
they least expected him ; for which all the nation, even all 
the three nations, had just cause to sing 

Te Deiivi lanJamiis, 



4 



BOSCOBEL; 



THE HISTORY OF THE MOST MIRACULOUS 
PRESERVATION OF 

KING CHARLES IL 

AfUy the Battle of Worcester, September the Zrd^ 1651. 
PART II. 



He shall call upon me, and I will answer him ; I will be with him 
1/1 trouble ; I will deliver him, and will honour him, — Psal. xix. 15. 



PREFACE. 



The First Part of this miraculous history I long since published, having 
the means to be well informed in all circumstances relating to it ; the 
scene (whereon those great actions were performed) being my native 
country, and many of the actors my particular friends. 

I did not then intend to have proceeded farther, presuming some of 
those worthy persons of the west (who were the happy instruments in this 
Second Part) would have given us that so much desired supplement ; the 
rather, since the publication of the wonderful series of this great work, 
wherein the hand of God so miraculously appeared in preservation of "him 
whom the Lord hath chosen,"* must needs open the eyes and convert 
the hearts of the most disloyal. 

But finding, in all this time, nothing done, and the world more greedy 
of it than ever young ladies were to read the conclusion of an amorous 
strange romance, after they had left the darling lover plunged into some 
dire misfortune, I have thus endeavoured to complete the historJ^ 
* 1 r-cm. X. 21. 



BOSCOBEL. 519 

Chiefly encouraged hereunto by an express from Lisbon, wherein 'tis 
certified that (besides the translation of the first part of Boscobel into 
French) Mr. Peter GifFard, of White Ladies, has lately made it speak Por- 
tuguese, and presented it to the Infanta, our most excellent queen, who 
was pleased to accept it with grace, and peruse it with passion, intimating 
her royal desire to see the particulars how the hand of Providence haa led 
the great monarch of her heart out of the treacherous snares of so many 
rebels. 

In this I dare not undertake to deliver so many particulars as in the 
former; for though the time of his majesty's stay in those western parts 
was longer, yet the places were more remote, and my Lord Wilmot (the 
principal agent) dead. But I will again confidently promise to write 
nothing but truth, as near as a severe scrutiny can inform me. 

And, perhaps, a less exactness in circumstantials will better please some 
who (as I have heard) object against my former endeavours on this royal 
subject as too minutely written, and particulars set down of too mean a 
concern, for which I have yet the example of that renowned historian, 
Famian Strada,* to protect me, who writing of the Emperor Charles the 
Fifth, mentions w^hat meat he fed on such a day, what clothes he wore 
another time, and gives this reason, ** that it pleases to know every thing 
that princes do,'' especially when by a chain of providences, whose every 
link seems small and weak in its single self, so great a *' blessing " f will 
at last be drawn in amongst us. 

That part of this unparalleled relation of a king, which here I undertake 
to deliver, may fitly, I think, be called, ** The Second Stage of the Royal 
Progress," wherein as I am sure every good subject will be astonished to 
read the hardships and difiiculties his majesty encountered in this long and 
perilous journey, so will they be even overjoyed to find him at last (by 
the conduct of Heaven) brought safe to Paris, where my humble endeavours 
leave him thus comforted by the prophet: ** Fear not, for the hand of 
Saul shall not find thee, and thou shalt be king over Israel." 

T. B. 
* De Eello Belgico. f 1 Sam. xxili. 17. 



SECOND STAGE OF THE ROYAL PROGRESS. 



He that well considers the admirable ev^ents particularized 
in the First Part of this History of his majesty's miraculous 
preservation, will be apt to think his evil genius had almost 
racked its invention to find out hardships and perils beyond 
human imagination, and that his good angel had been even 
tired out with contriving suitable means for his deliverance ; 
yet, if you please (after you have sufiiciently wondered, and 
blessed God for the preservation you read there), proceed and 
admire the strange stupendous passages you shall find here ; 
which, when you have done with just and due attention, 1 
cannot doubt but your thoughts will easily raise themselves 
into some holy ecstasy, and growing warm with often repeat- 
ing their own reflections, break forth at last, and join your 
exclamations with all the true and hearty adorers of the 
divine providence, ^' Thou art great, O Lord, and dost won- 
derful things ; thou art God alone !"''•' 

I shall not need, I hope, to bespeak my reader's patience 
for any long introduction, since all the compliment I intend, 
is humbly to kiss the pen and paper, which have the honour 
to be servants of this royal subject, and without farther 
ceremony begin. 

Colonel John Lane having (as it has been related) safely 
conveyed his majesty from Moseley to his own house at 
Bentley, in Staffordshire, on Tuesday night, the 9th of 
September, 1651, the Lord Wilmot was there ready to 
receive him, and after his majesty had eaten and conferred 
with my lord and the colonel of his intended journey towards 
Bristol the very next morning, he went to bed, though his 
rest was not like to be long; for at the very break of the 
day on Wednesday morning the colonel called up his majesty, 
and brought him a new suit and cloak, which he had pro- 
vided for him, of country grey cloth, as near as could be 
contrived like the holyday suit of a farmer's son, which was 
thought fittest to carry on tlie disguise. Here his majesty 

* Psalm Ixxxvi. 10. 



BOSCOBEL. 521 

quitted his leather doublet and green breeches for his new- 
grey suit, and forsook his former name Will. Jones for that 
of Will. Jackson. 

Thus, then, was the royal journey designed ; the king, as 
a tenant's son (a quality far more convenient for their inten- 
tion than that of a direct servant), was ordered to ride before 
Mrs. Jane Lane, as her attendant, Mr. Henry Lassels (who 
was kinsman, and had been cornet to the colonel in the late 
wars) to ride single, and Mr. John Petre, of Horton, in 
Buckinghamshire, and his wife, the colonel's sister, who were 
then accidentally at Bentley, being bound homeward, to ride 
in the same company ; Mr. Petre a.nd his wife little suspect- 
ing Will. Jackson, their fellow-traveller, to be the monarch 
of Great Britain. 

His majesty thus refreshed, and thus accoutred with all 
necessaries for a journey in the designed equipage, after he 
had taken leave of my Lord Wilmot, and agreed on their 
meeting within a few days after at Mr. George Norton's 
house at Leigh, near Bristol ; the colonel conveyed him a 
back way into the stable, where he fitted his stirrups, and 
gave him some instructions for better acting the part of Will. 
Jackson, mounted him on a good double gelding, and directed 
himi to come to the gate of the house, which he punctually 
performed, with his hat under his arm. 

By this time it was twilight, and old Mrs. Lane (who 
knew nothing of this great secret) would needs see her 
beloved daughter take horse, which whilst she was intending, 
the colonel said to the king, " Will, thou must give my sister 
thy hand;" but his majesty (unacquainted with such little 
offices) offered his hand the contrary way, which the old 
gentlewoman taking notice of, laughed, and asked the colonel 
her son, " What a goodly horseman her daughter had got to 
ride before her V 

Mr. Petre and his wife, and Mr. Lassels, being also 
mounted, the wdiole company took their journey (under the 
protection of the King of kings) towards Stratford-upon- 
Avon, in Warwickshire. And soon after they were gone 
from Bentley, the Lord Wilmot, Colonel Lane, and Robert 
Sw^an, my lord's servant, took horse, with a hawk and 
spaniels with them for a disguise, intending to go that night 



;i22 BoscoiiEL. 

to Sir Clement F;3ber*s bouse at Packington, in Warwick- 
shire, where the colonel knew they should both be as welcome 
as generosity, and as secure as fidelity could make them. 

When the king and his small retinue arrived near Wotton, 
within four miles of Stratford, they espied a troop of rebels, 
baiting (as they conceived) almost a mile before them in the 
very road, which caused a council to be held among them, 
wherein Mr. Petre presided, and he would by no means go 
on, for fear of losing his horse, or some other detriment ; so 
that they wheeled about a more indirect way ; and at Strat- 
ford (where they were of necessity to pass the river Avon; 
met the same or another troop in a narrow passage, who very 
fairly opened to the right and left, and made way for the 
travellers to march through them. 

That night (according to designment) Mrs. Lane and her 
company took up their quarters at Mr. Tombs's house at 
Longmarston, some three miles west of Stratford, with whom 
she was well acquainted. Here Will. Jackson being in the 
kitchen, in pursuance of his disguise, and the cook-maid busy 
in providing supper for her master's friends, she desired him 
to wind up the jack ; Will. Jackson was obedient, and 
attempted it, but hit not the right way, which made the maid 
in some passion ask, " What countryman are you, that you 
know not how to wind up a jack ?" Will. Jackson answered 
very satisfactorily, " I am a poor tenant's son of Colonel 
Lane, in Staffordshire ; we seldom have roast meat, but when 
we have, we don't make use of a jack ;'* which in some 
measure assuaged the maid's indignation. 

The same night my lord, with the colonel, arrived safely at 
Sir Clement Fisher's house at Packington, where they found 
;i welcome suitable to the nobleness of his mind, and a secu- 
rity answerable to the faithfulness of his heart. 

Next morning my lord thought fit to despatch the colonel 
to London, to procure, if possible, a pass for the king, by the 
name of William Jackson, to go into France, and to bring it 
himself, or send it (as opportunity should be offered), to Mr. 
Ts^orton's house, where my lord (as you have heard) was 
designed to attend his majesty. 

On Thursday morning (11th of September), the king, with 
Mrs. Lane and Mr. Lassels, rose early, and after Mrs. l^ane 



BOSCOBEL. 523 

had taken leave both of Mr. Petre and his wife (whose way 
lay more south), and of Mr. Tombs, the master of the house, 
they took horse, and without any considerable accident rode 
by Camden, and arrived that night at an inn in Cirencester, 
in Gloucestershire, distant about twenty-four miles from Long- 
marston. After supper, a good bed was provided for Mr. 
Lassels, and a truckle bed for Will. Jackson in the same 
chamber; but Mr. Lassels, after the chamberlain had left 
them, laid his majesty in the best bed, and himself in the 
other, and used the like due observance when any opportunity 
would allow it. 

The next day, being Friday, the royal traveller, with his 
attendants, left Cirencester, and by the way of Sudbury rode 
to and through the city of Bristol (wherein they had once lost 
their way, till inquiry better informed them), and arrived that 
evening at Mr. Norton's house, at Leigh, some three miles 
from Bristol, and about thirty from Cirencester, which was 
the desired end of this perilous journey. 

At this place his majesty still continued under the notion 
of one of Colonel Lane's tenant*s sons, and, by a pre-settled 
contrivance with Mrs. Lane, feigned himself sick of an ague, 
under colour whereof she procured him the better chamber 
and accommodation without any suspicion, and still took 
occasion from thence, with all possible care and observance, 
to send the sick person some of the best meat from Mr. Nor- 
ton's table; and Mrs. Norton's maid, Margaret Rider (who 
was commanded to be his nurse-keeper, and believed him sick 
indeed), made William a carduus posset, and was very careful 
of him ; nor was his majesty at all known or suspected here, 
either by Mr. Norton or his lady, from whose knowledge yet 
he was not concealed out of any the least distrust of their 
fidelity (for his whole dominions yielded not more faithful 
subjects), but because such knowledge might haply at unawares 
have drawn a greater respect and observance from them than 
that exigent would safely admit of. 

Under the disguise of this ague, his majesty for the most 
part kept his chamber during his stay at Leigh ; yet, being 
somewhat wearied with that kind of imprisonment, one day 
(when his ague might be imagined to be in the intermission), 
he walked down to a place where the young men played at a 



5*24 BOSCOBKL. 

game of ball called fives, where his majesty was asked by ono 
t>f the gamesters if he could play, and would take his part at 
that game ; he pleaded unskilfulness, and modestly refused. 

But behold an unexpected accident hero fell out, which put 
his majesty and Mrs. Lane into some apprehension of the 
danger of a discovery. Mr. Norton's butler (whose name was 
John Pope) had served a courtier some years before the war, 
and his majesty's royal father in the war, under Colonel 
Bagot, at Lichfield, and by that means had the physiognomy 
of the king (then Prince of Wales) so much imprinted in his 
memory, that (though his majesty was in all points most accu- 
rately disguised), yet the butler knew him, and communicated 
his knowledge to Mrs. Lane, who at first absolutely denied 
him to be the king, but after, upon conference and advice had 
with his majesty, it was thought best to acknowledge it to the 
butler, and, by the bonds of allegiance, conjure him to secrecy, 
who thereupon kissed the king's hand, and proved perfectly 
honest. 

On Saturday night (13th of September), the Lord Wilniot 
'arrived at a village near Leigh, where he lay, but came every 
day to visit Will. Jackson and Mrs. Lane, as persons of his 
acquaintance ; and so had the opportunity to attend and con- 
sult with his majesty unsuspected during their stay at Leigh. 

Soon after, upon serious advice had with my lord, it was 
resolved by his majesty to go to Trent, the house of Colonel 
Francis Wyndham (of whose fidelity his majesty had ample 
assurance), which lies in Somersetshire, but bordering on the 
very skirts of Dorsetshire, near Sherburn, and therefore w^as 
judged to be conveniently seated in the way towards Lime j 
and other port towns, where his majesty might probably take 
shipping for France. 

In pursuance of this resolve, the Lord Wilmot (as his 
majesty's harbinger) rode to Trent on Monday, to make way 
for his more private reception there ; and Tuesday morning 
(September IG), his majesty's ague being then (as was pre- 
tended) in the recess, he repaired to the stable, and there gave 
order for making ready the horses; and then it was signified 
from Mrs. Lane (though before so agreed), that William Jack- 
son should ride single and carry the portmanteau ; accordingly 
they mounted, being attended part of the way l)y one of Mr. 



BOSCOBEL. b'lij 

Norton's men as a guide, and that day rode through the body 
of Somersetshire, to Mr. Edward Kirton*s house at Castle 
Gary, near Burton, where his majesty lay that night, and 
next morning arrived at Colonel Wyndham's said house, which 
was about twenty-six miles from Leigh. 

His majesty was now at Trent, in as much safety as the 
master of the house his fidelity and prudence could make him ; 
but the great work was how to procure a vessel for transport •. 
ation of this great treasure. For this end his majesty, the 
Lord Wilmot, and Colonel Wyndham had several consults ; 
and in pursuance of their determination, the colonel, with his 
trusty servant Henry Peters, posted to Lime, which is about 
twenty miles from Trent, where, after some difficulty, by the 
assistance of Captain William Elsdeu, a loyal subject (at 
whose house the colonel lodged), he hired a bark to transport 
his majesty for France, which bark was by agreement to 
.attend at Charmouth (a little maritime village near Lime), at 
a time appointed, and returned with all speed to Trent with 
the good news. 

The next day his majesty resolved for Lime, and Mrs. 
Jane Lane here humbly took her leave of him, returning with 
Mr. Lassels, by his majesty's permission, into Staffordshire, 
leaving him in faithful hands, and in a hopeful way of 
escaping the bloody designs of merciless rebels, which as it 
was all along the scope of her endeavours, so was it now the 
subject of her prayers ; yet it was still thought the best 
disguise for his majesty to ride before some woman, and 
accordingly Mrs. Julian Coningsby, Colonel Wyndham's 
kinswoman, had the honour to ride behind his majesty, who 
with the Lord Wilmot, the colonel, and Henry Peters, came 
that evening to a blind inn in Charmouth, near which place 
the skipper had promised to be in readiness with his bark ; 
but observe the disappointment. 

In the interim (whilst Colonel Wyndham was gone back 
to Trent) it seems the rebels' proclamation for apprehending 
Charles Stuart (meaning in their impudent phrase) our then 
gracious king, and prohibiting, for a certain time, the trans- 
portation of any person without a particular license, had been 
published in and about Lime; and the skipper having ac- 
quainted his wife that he had agreed to transport two or 



^-6 liO&COBEL. I 

three persons into France, whom he believed might be } 
cavaliers, it seems the grey mare was the better horse, for she 
locked up her husband in his chamber, and would by no 
means permit him to go the voyage ; so that whilst Henry 
Peters staid on the beach most part of the night, his majesty 
and the rest of the company sat up in the inn, expecting 
news of the seaman with his boat, who never appeared. 

The next morning, his majesty and attendants resolving to 
return to Trent, rode first to Bruteport, in Dorsetshire, where ' 
he staid at an inn, whilst Henry Peters was sent back to 
Captain Elsden, to see if there were any hope left of per- 
suading the skipper, or rather of gaining leave of his wife, 
for him to undertake the voyage ; but all endeavours proved 
ineffectual, and by that time Harry returned, the day was so 
far spent, that his majesty could conveniently reach no farther 
that night than Broad- Windsor ; and (which added much to 
the danger) Colonel Heane (one of Croni well's commanders) 
at this very time was marching rebels from several garrisons 
to Weymouth and other adjacent ports, in order to their 
being shipped, for the forcing the island of Jersey from his 
majesty's obedience, as they had done all the rest of his 
dominions ; so that the roads of this country were full ot 
soldiers. 

Broad- Windsor afforded but one inn, and that the George, 
a mean one too, and (which was worse) the best accommoda- 
tions in it were, before his majesty's arrival, taken up by 
rebel soldiers, one of whose doxies was brought to bed in the 
house, which caused the constable and overseers for the poor 
of the parish to come thither at an unseasonable hour of the 
night, to take care that the brat might not be left to the 
charge of the parish ; so that his majesty, through this dis- 
turbance, went not to bed at all ; and we may safely conclude 
he took as little rest here as he did the night before at Char- 
mouth. Thus were " the tribulations of David's heart en- 
larged," and he prayed, '' Deliver me, Lord, from my 
distresses.*' 

His majesty having still thus miraculously escaped dangers 
which hourly environed him, returned safe to Trent next 
morning, where, after some refreshment and rest taken, he 
was pleased to call my Lord Wilmot and Colonel Wyndham 



BOSCOBEL. D'^ i 

(the members of his little privy council) together, to consider 
what way was next to be attempted for his transportation. 

After several proposals, it was at last resolved that my 
lord (attended and conducted by Henry Peters) should the 
next day be sent to Salisbury to Mr. John Coventry (son to 
the late Lord Coventry, lord keeper of the great seal of 
England), who then lived in the close of that city, and was 
known to be both a prudent person and a perfect lover of his 
sovereign, as well to advise how to procure a bark for passing 
his majesty into France, as for providing some moneys for 
his present necessary occasions. 

My lord, being arrived at Salisbury, despatched Henry 
Peters back to Trent, with intimation of the good reception 
he found there ; for Mr. Coventry did not only furnish him 
with moneys, but was very solicitous for his majesty's safety ; 
to which end he advised with Dr. Humphrey Henchman, a 
worthy divine, who, since his majesty's happy restoration, 
was with much merit advanced to the episcopal see of 
Salisbury. 

The result of these two loyal persons' consultation was, 
that his majesty should be desired to remove to tiele (which 
lay about three miles north-east of Salisbury), the dwelling- 
house of Mrs. Mary Hyde, the relict of Laurence Hyde, Esq., 
eldest brother to Hon, Sir Robert Hyde, one of the justices 
of his majesty's Court of Common Pleas, whom they knew to 
be both as discreet and as loyal as any of her sex. 

With this resolution and advice, Mr. Coventry despatched 
his chaplain, Mr. John Selleck, to Trent with a letter, rolled 
up into the bigness of a musket bullet, which the faithful 
messenger had order to swallow down his throat in case of 
any danger. 

Meantime Mr. Coventry had found out a trusty seaman at 
Southampton, who undertook to transport whom he pleased ; 
but on second thoughts and advice had with my Lord Wil- 
mot, it was not held safe for his majesty to take shipping 
there, in regard of the so many castles by which the ships 
pass that are outward-bound, and the often examination of 
the passengers in them ; so that some of the small ports of 
Sussex were concluded to be the safer places for effecting this 
great work of his majesty's delivery from the hands of such 



528 BOSCOBEL. I 

unparalleled rebels, who even ravenously thirsted after royal 
blood. 

In the interim Mr. Selleck returned with his majesty^s re- 
solution to come to Hele, signified by a like paper bullet ; 
and by this time his majesty thought fit to admit of the ser- 
vice and assistance of Colonel Robert Philips (grandson to 
the famed Sir Edward Philips, late Master of the Rolls), who 
lived in those parts, and was well acquainted with the ways 
of the country, and known to be as faithful as loyalty could 
make him. This colonel undertook to be his majesty*s con- 
ductor to Hele, which was near thirty miles distant from Trent. 
During his majesty's stay at Trent (which was about a 
fortnight), he was, for his own security, forced to confine him- 
self to the voluntary imprisonment of his chamber, which was 
happily accommodated (in case the rebels had searched the 
house) with an old well-contrived secret place, long before 
made (for a shelter against the inquisition of pursuivants) by 
some of the ancient family of the Gerhards, Colonel AVynd- 
ham's lady's ancestors, who were recusants, and had formerly 
been owners of that house. 

His majesty's meat was likewise (to prevent the danger of 
a discovery) for the most part dressed in his own chamber, 
the cookery whereof served him for some divertisement of the 
time ; and it is a great truth if we say, there was no cost 
spared, nor care wanting in the colonel, for the entertain- 
ment and preservation of his royal guest. 

On the 3rd of October, his majesty (having given Colonel 
Wyndham particular thanks for his great care and fidelity 
towards him) left Trent, and began his journey with Colonel 
Philips, and personating a tenant's son of his, towards Hele, 
attended by Henry Peters (afterwards yeoman of the field to 
Ins majesty), and riding before Mrs. Coningsby. The tra- 
vellers passed by Wincanton, and near the midst of that day's 
journey arrived at Mere, a little market town in AViltshire, 
and dined at the George Inn ; the host, Mr. Christopher 
Philips, whom the colonel knew to be perfectly honest. 

The host sat at the table with his majesty, and administered 
matters of discourse, told the colonel, for news, that ho heard 
the men of Westminster (meaning the rebels), notwithstanding 
their victorv at AVorcester, were in a great maze, not knowing 



BOSCOBEL. 529 

what was become of the king ; but (says he) it is the most 
received opinion that he is come in a disguise to London, and 
many houses have been searched for liim there : at which his 
majesty was observed to smile. 

After dinner, mine host familiarly asked the king " if he 
were a friend to Cassar?" to which his majesty answered, 
" Yes/' " Then," said he, "here's a health to King Charles," 
in a glass of wine, which his majesty and the colonel both 
pledged ; and that evening arrived in safety at Hele. And 
his majesty, since his happy return, has been pleased to ask, 
" What was become of his honest host at Mere ? " 

In the mean time the Lord Wilmot (who took up the bor- 
rowed name of Mr. Barlow) rode to such gentlemen of his 
acquaintance in Hampshire, whom he knew to be faithful 
subjects, to seek means for (what he so much desired) the 
transportation of his majesty ; and first repaired to Mr. Lau- 
rence Hyde (a name as faithful as fortunate in his majesty's 
service), at his house at Hinton d'Aubigny, near Catha- 
rington, then to Mr. Thomas Henslow, at B urban t, in the 
same county, to whom (as persons of known fidelity) my lord 
communicated his weighty business, and desired their assist- 
ance for procuring a bark for his majesty's transportation. 

Mr. Henslow (in zeal to this service) immediately ac- 
quainted the Earl of Southampton (then at his house at Titch- 
field, and afterwards with much merit dignified with the great 
office of lord high treasurer of England) with this most im- 
portant affair, my Lord Wilmot judging it fitter for Mr. 
Henslow (his neighbour) to do it, than for himself, in those 
circumstances, to appear at my lord's house, whose eminent 
fidelity and singular prudence, in the conduct of even the 
greatest aff*airs of state, being known both to them and all 
the world, and his great power and command at Bewly 
Haven, and the maritime parts of Hampshire, esteemed very 
favourable for their design, wherein his lordship was extremely 
active and solicitous. 

Besides this, Mr. Laurence Hyde recommended my Lord 
Wilmot to Colonel George Gunter, who lived at Rackton, 
near Chichester, in Sussex, and was known to be both faith- 
ful and active, not unlike to be successful in this service, to 
whom therefore my lord hasted, and lay at Rackton one night, 

2 M 



,0.10 BOSCOBEL. 

where he imparted his great solicitation to the colonel and i 
his kinsman, Mr. Thomas Gunter, who was then accidentally | 
there. i 

All these persons had the like instructions from my lord, 
which made a deep impression on their loyal hearts, and ex- 
cited them to use their utmost endeavours by several ways " 
and means to procure the Noah's ark, which might at last 1 
secure his majesty from the great inundation of rebellion and j 
treason which then did overspread the face of his whole -. 
dominions. 

But to return to my humble observance of his majesty at ' 
Hele, where Mrs. Hyde was so transported with joy and . 
loyalty towards him, that at supper, though his majesty was . 
set at the lower end of the table, yet the good gentlewoman 
had much ado to overcome herself, and not to carve to him \ 
iirst ; however, she could not refrain from drinking to him in 
a glass of wine, and giving him two larks, when others had 
but one. 

After supper, Mr. Frederick Hyde (brother-in-law to the 
widow, who was then at Hele, and since created serjeant-at 
law) discoursed Avith his majesty upon various subjects, not 
suspecting who he was, but wondered to receive such rational 
discourse from a person whose habit spoke him but of mean 
degree ; and when his majesty was brought to his chamber. 
Dr. Henchman attended him there, and had a long and pri- 
vate communication with him. 

Next day it was thought fit, to prev^ent the danger of any 
discovery, or even suspicion in the house, that in regard his 
majesty might possibly stay there some days before the con- 
veniency of a transportation could be found out, he should that 
day publicly take his leave, and ride about two miles from 
the house, and then be privately brought in again the same 
evening, when all the servants were at supper; which was 
accordingly performed, and after that time his majesty ap- 
peared no more at Hele in public, but had meat brought him 
privately to his chamber, and was attended by the good 
widow, with much care and observance. 

Now, among the many faithful solicitors for this long- 
expected bark. Colonel Guntcr happened to be the lucky 
iii-an wlio first procured if, at Brighthelmstone, in Sussex, by 



BOSCOBEL. 531 

the assistance of Mr. Francis Mansel, merchant, of Chiches- 
ter, and the concurrent endeavours of Mr. Thomas Gunter ; 
and on Saturday night, the 11th of October, he brought the 
happy tidings to my Lord Wilmot and Colonel Philips, who 
then lay, the one at Mr. Laurence Hyde's, the other at Mr. 
Anthony Brown's house, his neighbour and tenant. 

The next morning, being Sunday, Colonel Philips was 
despatched to Hele, with the much-desired news, and with 
instructions to attend his majesty on Monday to the Downs, 
called Old Winchester, near Warnford. 

Early in the morning his majesty was privately conveyed 
from Hele, and v/ent on foot at least two miles to Clarendon 
Park Corner, attended by Dr. Henchman, then took horse 
with Colonel Philips; and at the appointed time and place, 
the Lord Wilmot, Colonel Gunter, and Mr. Thomas Gunter, 
met his majesty, with a brace of greyhounds, the better to 
carry on the disguise. 

That night, though both Mr. Laurence Hyde and Mr. 
Henslow had each of them provided a secure lodging for his 
majesty, by the Lord Wilmot's order, yet it was judged fittest 
by Colonel Gunter, and accordingly agreed unto by my lord, 
that his majesty should lodge at Mr. Thomas Symons's house 
at Hambledon, in Hampshire, who married the colonel's sis- 
ter, in regard the colonel knew them to be very faithful, but 
chiefly because it lay more directly in the way from Hele to 
Brighthelmstone ; and accordingly Colonel Gunter attended 
his majesty to his sister's house that night, who provided a 
good supper for them, though she had not the least suspicion 
or intimation of his majesty's presence among them. 

The king and his small retinue arriving in safety at Mrs. 
Symons's house, on Monday night, the 1 3th of October, were 
heartily welcomed by Mrs. Symons, for her husband was not 
then at home ; but by that time they had supped, in comes 
Mr. Symons, who wondering to see so many strangers in his 
house, was assured by his brother Gunter that they were all 
honest gentlemen ; yet, at first interview, he much suspected 
Mr. Jackson to be a roundhead, observing how little hair 
William PendereFs scissors had left him ; but at last being 
fully satisfied they were all cavaliers, he soon laid open his 
heart, and thought nothing too good for them, was sorry his 

2m 2 



532 liOStOBKL. 

beer was no stronger, and, to encourage it, fetched down a 
bottle of strong water, and mixing it with the beer, drank a 
cheerful cup to Mr. Jackson, calling him, '' brother round- 
head," whom his majesty pledged ; who was here observed to 
be clothed in a short juppa, of a sad-coloured cloth, and his 
breeches of another species, with a black hat., and without 
'uffs, somewhat like the meaner sort of country gentlemen. 

Mr. Symons, in the time of entertaining his guests, did by 
>hance let fall an oath, for which Mr. Jackson took occasion 
modestly to reprove him. 

His majesty, thus resting himself Monday night at Ilambl o- 
dou, early on Tuesday morning (October the 14th) prepared 
for his journey to Brighthelmstone, distant about thirty-fi^'e 
miles from thence. But having then no further use for Colo- 
nel Philips, dismissed him, with thanks for his fidelity and 
service, in this most secret and important aflfair ; and then, 
having also bidden farewell to Mr. Symons and his wife, took 
horse, attended by my Lord Wilmot and his man, Colonel 
Gunter, and Mr. Thomas Gunter. 

When they came near the Lord Lumley's house, at San- 
stead, in Sussex, it was considered that the greatness of the 
number of horse might possibly raise some suspicion of them : 
3Ir. Thomas Gunter was therefore dismissed, with thanks for 
the service he had done, and his majesty held on his journey 
without any stay ; and being come to Bramber, within seven 
miles of the desired port, met there some of Colonel Herbert 
Morley's soldiers, who yet did neither examine, nor had they, 
as far as could be discerned, the least suspicion of the royal 
passengers, who arrived at last at the George Inn, in Bright- 
helmstone, where Mr. Francis Mansel, who assisted Colonel 
Gunter in this happy service, had agreed to meet him. 

At supper, Mr. Mansel sat at the upper end of the table, 
and Mr. Jackson (for that name his majesty still retained) at 
the lower end. The innkeeper's name was Smith, and had 
formerly rebated to the court, so that he suspected Mr. Jack- 
son to be whom he really was; which his majesty understand- 
ing, he discoursed with his host after supper, vvhereby his loy- 
alty was confirmed, and the man proved faithful. 

The next morning, being Wednesday, October the 15th (the 
same day on which the noble Earl of Derby became a royal 



BOSCOBKL. 533 

martyr at Boulton), liis majesty, haying given particular 
ihanks to Colonel Gimter for his great care, pains, and fide- 
lity towards him, took shipping with the Lord Wilmot, in the 
Lark which lay in readiness for him at that harbour, and 
whereof Mr. Nicholas Tetersal was owner ; and the next day, 
with an auspicious gale of wind, landed safely at Fecamp, 
near Havre de Grace, in Normandy; where his majesty might 
]]jippily say with David, " Thou hast delivered me from the 
violent man ; therefore will I sing praises to thy name, O 
Lord." 

This very bark, after his majesty's happy restoration, was 
by Captain Tetersal brought into the river Thames, and lay 
some months at anchor before Whitehall, to renew the memory 
of the happy service it had performed. 

His majesty, having nobly rewarded Captain Tetersal in 
gold for his transportation, lodged this night at an inn in Fe- 
camp, and the next day rode to Rouen, still attended by the 
faithful Lord Wilmot, where he continued, incognito, several 
days at Mr. Scot's house, since created baronet, till he had 
sent an express to the queen, his royal mother, who had been 
long solicitous to hear of his safety, and the court of France, 
intimating his safe arrival there, and had quitted his dis- 
guised habit for one more befitting the dignity of so great a 

Upon the first intelligence of this welcome news, his high- 
ness the Duke of York sent his coach forthwith to attend his 
majesty at Rouen, and the Lord Gerard, with others his ma- 
jesty's Servian ts, made all possible haste, with glad hearts, to 
perform their duty to him : so that on the 29th of October, his 
majesty set forward towards Paris, lay that night at Fleury, 
about seven leagues from Rouen ; the next morning his royal 
brother, the Duke of York, was ready to receive him at Mag- 
nie, and that evening his majesty was met at Mouceaux, a 
village near Paris, by the Queen of England, accompanied 
with her brother, the Duke of Orleans, and attended by a 
great number of coaches, and many both English and French 
lords and gentlemen on horseback, and was thus gladly con- 
ducted the same night, though somewhat late, to the Louvre, 
at Paris to the inexpressible joy of his dear mother the 



.■)34 IJOSCOBEL. 

(jueen, his royal brother the Duke of York, and of all true 
hearts. 

Here we must a^alu, with greater reason, humbly contem- 
j)late the admirable providence of Almighty God, which cer- 
tainly never appeared more miraculously than in this strange 
deliverance of his majesty from such an infinity of dangers, 
that history itself cannot produce a parallel, nor will posterity 
willingly believe it. 

From the 8rd of September, at "Worcester, to the 15th of Oc- 
tober, at Brighthelmstone, being one-and-forty days, he passed 
through more dangers than he travelled miles, of which yet 
he traversed in that time only near three hundred (not to 
speak of his dangers at sea, both at his coming into Scotland, 
and his going out of England, nor of his long march from 
Scotland to AVorcester), sometimes on foot with uneasy shoes; 
at other times on horseback, encumbered with a portmanteau ; 
and which was worse, at another time on the gall-backed, slow- 
])aced miller s horse ; sometimes acting one disguise in coarse 
linen and a leather doublet, sometimes another of almost as 
bad a complexion ; one day he is forced to skulk in a barn at 
Madeley, another day sits with Colonel Carlos in a tree, with 
his feet extremely galled, and at night glad to lodge with Wil- 
liam Penderel in a secret place at Boscobel, which never was 
intended for the dormitory of a king. 

Sometimes he was forced to shift with coarse fare for a bel- 
lyful ; another time in a wood, glad to relieve the necessities 
of nature with a mess of milk, served up in a homely dish by 
good- wife Yates, a poor country-woman ; then again, for a 
variety of tribulation, when he thought himself almost out of 
danger, he directly meets some of those rebels who so greedily 
sought his blood, yet, by God's great providence, had not the 
power to discover him ; and (which is more than has yet been 
mentioned) he sent at another time to some subjects for relief 
and assistance in his great necessity, who, out of a pusillani- 
mous fear of the ]>loody arch-rebel then reigning, durst not 
own him. 

Besides all this, 'twas not the least of his afflictions daily to 
hear the Earl of Derby, and other his loyal subjects, some 
murdered, some imprisoned, and others sequestered in heaps, 



BOSCOBEL. 53.5 

hy tliG same bloody usurper, only for performing their duty to 
their lawful king. In a word, there was no kind of misery 
(but death itself) of w^iich his majesty, in this horrible perse- 
cution, did not in some measure, both in body, mind, and 
estate, bear a very great share ; yet such was his invincible 
patience in this time of trial, such his fortitude, that he over- 
came them all with such pious advantage to himself, that their 
memory is now sweet, and " it was good for him that he had 
bsen afflicted." 

Of these his majesty's sufferings and forced extermination 
from his own dominions, England's great chancellor '^ thus 
excellently descants : 

" We may tell those desperate wretches, who yet harbour 
in their thoughts wicked designs against the sacred person of 
the king, in order to the compassing their own imaginations, 
that God Almighty would not have led him through so many 
wildernesses of afflictions of all kinds, conducted him through 
so many perils by sea, and perils by land, snatched him out 
of the midst of this kingdom when it was not worthy of him, 
and when the hands of his enemies were even upon him, when 
tliey thought themselves so sure of him, that they would bid 
so cheap and so vile a price for him. He would not in that 
article have so covered him with a cloud, that he travelled 
even with some pleasure and great observation through the 
midst of his enemies. He would not so wonderfully have new 
modelled that army; so inspired their hearts, and the hearts 
of the whole nation, with an honest and impatient longing for 
the return of their dear sovereign, and in the mean time have 
exercised him (which had little less of providence in it than 
the other) with those unnatural, or at least unusual, disrespects 
and reproaches abroad, that he might have a harmless and an 
innocent appetite to his own country, and return to his own 
people, with a full value, and the whole unwasted bulk of his 
affections, without being corrupted or biassed by extraordinary 
foreign obligations. God Almighty would not have done all 
this but for a servant whom he will always preserve as the 
apple of his own eye, and always defend from the most secret 
machmations of his enemies." 

* Edward, Earl of Clarendon. See p. 291 of the Appendix to his 
lordship's ** History of the Grand Rebellion/' 



/)3G DO.SCOIJ'.L. 

Thus the best and happiest of orators. 

Some may haply hero expect I should have continued the 
particulars of this history to the time of his majesty's happy 
restoration, by giving an account of the reception his majesty 
found from the several princes beyond the seas, during his 
exile, and of his evenness of mind and prudent deportment 
towards them upon all occasions ; but that was clearly beyond 
the scope of my intention, whicli aimed only to write the 
wonderful history of a great and good king, A^iolently pursued 
in his own dominions by the w^orst of rebels, aud miraculously 
preserved, under God, by the best of subjects. 

In other countries, of which his majesty traversed not a 
few, he found kindness and a just compassion of his adversity 
from many, and from some a neglect and disregard ; yet, in 
all the almost nine years abroad, I have not heard of any 
passage that approached the degree of a miracle like that at 
home ; therefore I may, wdth faith to my own intentions, not 
improperly make a silent transition from his majesty's arrival 
at Paris, on the 13th day of October, 1651, to his return to 
London on the 29th of May, 1660; and, with a Te Deum 
laudamus^ sum up all, and say with the prophet : " My lord 
the king is come again in peace to his own house." "' " And 
all the people shouted, and said, God save the king !"t 



INDEX. 



Anne of Austria, notice of, 84, 328. 

Aremberg, Prince d\ 88, 

Arlington, Lord, his character, 143 ; 
his interview with Miss Stewart, 
ib. ; notices of, 364 ; sends to 
Holland for a wife, 144, 364. 

Arscot, Duked', 88. 

Arran, Earl of, notice of, 107, 344 ; 
admirer of Lady Shrewsbury, 
119 ; his remarks on Miss Hyde, 
163, 164 ; plays the guitar, 174. 

Arras, siege of, 85, 330. 

Bagot, Miss, 217 ; her acquaintance 
with Miss Hobart, 220 ; married 
to Lord Falmouth, 221 ; notice of, 
382. 

Bapaume, notice of, 93, 331. 

Bardou, Mad., maid of honour, 210 ; 
quits the court, 216. 

Barker, Mrs., notice of, 385. 

Barry, Mrs., notice of, 385. 

Batteville. Baron de, notices of, 55, 
327. 

Bellenden, Miss, maid of honour, 
210; quits the court, 216. 

Berkley, Sir George, governed the 
Duke of York, 106, 343. 

Bidache, campaign at, 42, 327. 

Blague, Col., notice of, 498. 

Blague, Miss, plotted against by Miss 
Hamilton, 125 ; notice of, 358 ; 
intrigues with the Marquis de Bri- 
sacier, 128; at the masquerade, 
135 ; her eyes called 'marcassins,' 
218 ; marries Sir Thomas Yarbo- 
rough, 218. 

Blood, Col., anecdotes of, 440. 

Bold, John, assisted Charles 11. 497. 

Boscobel, origin of the name, 483 ; 
oak of, 515. 

Boynton, Miss, alluded to, 217 ; falls 
in love with Talbot, 247 ; her 



fainting fits, 279 ; marries Talbot, 
320 ; notice of, 386, 415. 

Brice, Gregorio, defended Lerida, 
152. 

Brinon, valet de chambre to Count 
Grammont, 41 ; leaves Paris with 
the Count, 43 ; reprimanded by 
the Count, 44 ; tries to persuade 
the Count from gaming, 47. 

Brisacier, Marquis de, intrigues with 
Miss Blague, 126, 128. 

Brissac, Duke de, duped by Gram- 
mont, 201. 

Bristol, Earl of, his parties, 171, 368. 

Brooks, Miss, notices of, 105, 350 ; 
intrigues with the Duke of York, 
171 ; marries Sir John Denham, 
172. /S'ee Denham. 

Brounker follows Miss Jennings, 
259 ; notices of, 392. 

Buckhurst, See Dorset. 

Buckingham, Duke of, dissipates his 
estate, 106, 343 ; his familiarity 
with Miss Stewart, 142 ; his buf- 
foonery with Lady Muskerry, 272 ; 
intrigues with Lady Shrewsbury^ 
297 ; kills her husband in a duel, 
299 ; notices and anecdotes of, 
361, 404; his talent for ridicule, 
425 ; his proposal for stealing the 
queen, 431 ; reproved by Charles 
II., 453 ; escapes with Charles 
from Worcester, 491. 

Buckingham, Duchess of, notice of, 
299, 404. 

Bussi, his description of Grammont, 
35 ; Voltaire's account of, 323. 

Byron, Lady, notice of, 429. 

CsesarsdeVend6me,notice of, 40,326. 

Cameran, Count de, invited to sup- 
per by Grammont, 51 ; loses at 
quinze, 52. 



5.38 



INDEX. 



Careless, Major, alluded to, 4G2. 

Carlingford, Lord, his stories to Miss 
Stewart, 308 ; notice of, 406. 

Carlis, Colonel, kills a sheep for the 
king, 504 ; family of, 514. 

Carnegy, Lady, See Southesk. 

Castleraaine, Countess of, her cha- 
racter, lOR, 347 ; intrigues with 
Jacob Hall, 118 ; endeavours to 
regain the king's affections, 146 ; 
desires to appear in the king's car- 
riage, 149 ; her partiality for Lord 
Chesterfield, 159 ; quarrels with 
the king about Jacob Hall and 
Jermyn, 250 ; created Duchess of 
Cleveland, 255 ; fondness for the 
Duke of Monmouth, 295 ; brought 
to bed, 309 ; intrigues with Chur- 
chill, 310; informs the king of 
Miss Stewart's intrigue with the 
Duke of Richmond, 312 ; hated 
by Catharine of Braganza, 437 ; 
lost 25,000/. at gaming, 443 ; her 
children by Charles, 446. 

Catharine, the Infanta of Portugal, 
her reception, 105, 339 ; her ap- 
pearance at court, 109, 350 ; her 
court, 110; endeavours to please 
the king, 125; her severe illness, 
145, 365 ; desires to appear in the 
king's carriage, 149 ; her maids of 
honour, 210 ; her residence at Tun- 
bridge, 268 ; her melancholy fate, 
2f?9 ; visits Bristol, 300, 405 ; in- 
tercedes for Miss Stewart, 315; 
her marriage to Charles, 436 ; her 
reception at Portsmouth, 437 ; ha- 
tred to Lady Castlemaine, 437. 

Cerise, master of the hotel at Lyons, 
44. 

Charles I., his execution, 422. 

Charles 1 1., Personal Memoir of, 
419 ; his birth and education, ib. ; 
le ivcs England and joins his mo- 
ther at Paris, 421 ; departs for 
Holland, 422; invited to Scotland, 
424 ; crowned at Scone, 481 ; heads 
the Scottish army, 426; proclaimed 
king at Worcester, 484 ; the battle 
and defeat, 427, 489 ; escapes, 455, 



483; White Ladys, 456, 493; dis- 
guises himsdf, 457, 494 ; stays in 
the wood of Boscobel, 458, 494, 
498 ; his adventure with a miller, 

459, 501 ; concealed by Mr. Woolf, 

460, 502 ; his concealment in an 
oak, 503 ; cooks the mutton, 505 ; 
concealed by Mr. Pitchcroft (Whit- 
greave), 462, 506 ; attended by the 
Penderells, 507 ; by Colonel Lane, 

463 ; adventure with a blacksmith, 

464 ; attended by Mrs. Lane's sis- 
ter, 464, 513; adventure at Mr. 
Tombs', 522 ; stops at Mr. Nor- 
ton's, 465, 523 ; adventure with 
the butler, 466, 524 ; concealment 
at Trent, 469, 524 ; disappointed 
in a ship, 469, 471, 525 ; goes to 
Burport, and adventure with an 
ostler, 470 ; goes to Mrs. Hyde's, ? 
471, 530; goes to Mr. Symons', 
531; visits Stonehenge, 472; is 
provided with a ship and proceeds to 
Brighton, 473 ; embarks at Shore- 
ham, 474, 533 ; reaches Rouen, 
476, 533 ; residence on the conti> 
nent, 427 ; his mistresses and ma- 
trimonial projects there, 429 ; ad- 
ventures at the Hague, 430 ; com- 
munications with Monk, 432 ; pro- 
claimed king at Whitehall, 433 ; 

his restoration, 104, 332, 434; 
his coronation, 105, 333 ; touches 
for the evil, 435 ; marries Cathe- 
rine of Braganza, 436 ; sells Dun- 
kirk, 438 ; invites Lady Muskerry 
to the masquerade, 127 ; attachment 
to Miss Stewart, 141 ; his court 
described, 173 ; intrigues with Miss 
Wells, 216 ; his attentions to Miss 
Jennings, 225 ; his affection for 
Lady Castlemaine on the decline, 
250 ; neglects the queen, 299 ; 
coldness of Miss Stewart, 311 ; 
jealous of the Duke of Richmond, 
312 ; discovers the duke with Miss 
Stewart, 314 ; sends a squadron to 
Guinea, 317; pardons Miss Stew- 
art, 316 ; his illness and death, 
444 ; his children enumerated, 446 ; 



INDEX. 



539 



miscellaneous anecdotes of the 
king, 447. 
Chesterfield, Lord, description of, 
159,367; his jealousy excited, 160, 
174 ; tells Hamilton of his wife's 
green stockings, 182 ; of her in- 
discretions with the Duke of York, 
182; his conduct exposed in bal- 
lads, 189. 
Chesterfield, Lady, notices of, 109, 
305 ; her intrigue with Hamilton, 
144 ; intrigues with the Duke of 
York, 158; with Hamilton, 160; 
her advances to the Duke of York, 
173; her guitar, 174; her green 
stockings, 178; herbillet to Hamil- 
ton, 180 ; her indiscretions with 
the Duke of York, 182 ; carried 
by her husband into the country, 
184; writes to Hamilton, 193; 
her trick upon him, 195. 
Chiifinch, alluded to, 313 ; notices 

of, 413. 
Churchill, intrigues with Lady Castle- 
maine, 309 ; banished the court, 
310 ; notices of, 406. 
Churchill, Miss, intrigues with the 
Duke of York, 274 ; her adven- 
ture, 282 ; notices of, 398. 
Clarendon, Earl of, prime minister, 
106, 341 ; his poverty at Brussels, 
429 ; his disgrace, 439 ; anecdote 
of, 450. 
Cleveland, Earl of, attempts to escape 

from Worcester, 497. 
Cleveland, Duchess of. See Castle - 

maine. 
Colepepper, Lord, quarrels with 

Prince Rupert, 422. 
Comminge, the French ambassador, 

148, 365. 
Conde, Prince de, notice of, 83, 328 ; 
visited by Grammont, 90 ; de- 
feated by Turenne, 93 ; besieges 
Lerida, 152,366. 
Corbeta, Francisco, the Italian mu- 
sician, 174 ; his saraband, 190. 
Cornwallis, Lord, his memory re- 
spected bv Grammont, 209 ; notice 
of, 379. " 



Coventry, Sir John, anecdote of, 
440 ; advises Charles on his es- 
cape, 527 ; finds a ship for the 
king's escape, 527. 

Crofts, William, notices of, 308,406. 

Cromwell, his government, 103 ; de- 
feats Charles I. at Worcester, 427, 
486 ; plots against him, 428. 

Cromwell, Richard, proclaimed pro- 
tector, 431 ; pamphlet concerning 
him called *' Oliver's Ghost," 43i. 

Cromwell, Frances, Charles II.'s at- 
tachment to, 429. 

Crosby, Mr., preaches before Charles 
at Worcester, 485. 

Davis, Miss, alluded to, 311 ; no- 
tices and anecdotes of, 412 ; her 
children by Charles, 446. 

Denham, Sir John, marries Miss 
Brooks, 172 ; notice and anec- 
dotes of, 369. 

Denham, Lady, her discovery of 
Lady Chesterfield's indiscretions, 
182 ; poisoned by her husband, 
192, 374. 

Derby, Earl of, reaches Boscobel, 
483 ; taken prisoner and tried by a 
court-martial, 495. 

Dillon, alluded to, 120. 

D'Olonne, Count, notice of, 114, 
354. 

Dongan, notice of, 218 ; loved by 
Miss Price, 219. 

Dorset, Lord, exposes Lord Chester- 
field in ballads, 189 ; notices and 
anecdotes of, 371 ; debauches Nell 
Gwynn, 310. 

Downing, Sir George, his adventure 
with Charles II., 431. 

Dryden, anecdote of, 452. 

Duncan, notice of, 132, 359. 

Du Plessis Pralin, notices of, 37, 
324. 

Duppa, Brian, tutor to Prince 
Charles, 420. 

Durfort, Earl of Feversham, notices 
of, 219, 382. 

Elliott, Mr. Humphrey, lends the 
I Earl of Derby 10/., 484. 



:)40 



INDKX. 



Etlit'rege, Sir George, exposes Lord 
Chesterfield in ballads, 189 ; no- 
tices and anecdotes of, 373, 

Fairfax, alluded to, 421. 

Falmouth, his love for Miss Hamil- 
ton, 140 ; brings an offer of a pen- 
sion to Grammont from the king, 
147 ; advises the Duke of York on 
his marriage, 163 ; marries Miss 
Bagot, 221. 

Fielding, Miss, notice of, 217. 

Ficsque, Countess de, notice of, 114, 
354. 

Flamarens, Marquis de, attempts to 
rival Grammont, 204 ; notices and 
anecdotes of, 375. 

Fox, Sir Stephen, notices of, 209, 
379. 

France, its position in the time of 
Grammont, 36. 

Francisco, See Corbeta. 

Gaboury, alluded to, 95. 

Garde, Mad. de la, maid of honour, 
210, 380 ; her charge to Miss 
Stewart, 211 ; marries Mr. Sil- 
vius, 216. 

George, Prince of Denmark, anec- 
dote of, 447. 

Gibbs, Miss, alluded to, 320, 415. 

Giffard, Mr., takes the king to White 
Ladys, 493; taken prisoner, but 
escapes, 495 ; his loyalty, 510. 

Gigeri, expedition of, 317, 415. 

Gloucester, Duke of, his death, 105, 
338. 

Grammont, Count, his first cam- 
paign, 36 ; his qualities admired 
and imitated, 37 ; his acquaintance 
with Matta, id, ; fondness for play, 
38 ; gives an account of his life to 
Matta, 40 ; plays at backgammon 
with the horse-merchant, 45 ; in- 
vites Count de Cameran to supj)er, 
50 ; visits Marshal Turenne, 54 ; 
wins fifteen horses, 55 ; goes to 
Turin with Matta, 56 ; intrigues 
with Madame de St. Germain, 58 ; 
and with the Marchioness de Se- i 



nantes, 68 ; plays a trick on Mat- 
ta, 70 ; plans f6r arresting Matta 
and the Marquis de Senantes, 79 ; 
returns to France, 83 ; joins Tu- 
renne, 87 ; visits Conde, 90 ; pur- 
sued by the enemy near Ba- 
paume, 94 ; his reception by Ma- 
zarine, 96 ; banished from the 
French court, 101 ; visits Eng- 
land, 103 ; his reception there, 
110 ; intrigues with Mrs. Middle- I 
ton, 115 ; is rivalled by Montague, 
121; falls in love with Miss Ha- 
milton, ib. ; invited by the king to 
the masquerade, 124 ; rivalled by 
thetwoRussells, 137; advised by St. 
Evremond, and answers him, 141; 
receives an offer of a pension from 
the king, 147; presents a magnifi- 
cent calash to the king, 149 ; story 
of his link-boy, 150 ; story of 
Poussatin, his chaplain, 152 ; adds 
verses to Francisco's sar<iband, > 
187, 190 ; his story of Madame do * 
rOrme, 200 ; the only foreigner 
in fashion, 204 ; is rivalled by 
Talbot, 206 ; his w^ay of refreshing 
memories, 209 ; mediates between 
the king and Lady Castlemaine, 
251 ; recalled to France, 283 ; 
adventure on his journey, 287 ; 
his adventure at Vaugirard, 293 ; 
returns to England, ib. ; adven- 
ture in a gaming-house, 302 ; 
persuades Hamilton against Miss 
Stewart, 304 ; marries Miss Ham- 
ilton, 320; Hamilton's epistle to, 
18 ; notices and anecdotes of, 
415. 
Grammont, Marshal de, notice of, 
152, 366 ; meets the Count, 291. 
Granville, Sir Jas., his interviews 

with Monk, 433. 
Guinea, expedition to, 305, 406, 319, 

415. 
Guise, Duke of, notice of, 149. 
Gunter, Col., alluded to, 472-3; 
assists Charles in his escape, 529 ; 
rewarded for his loyalty, 533. 
Gwynn, Nell, alluded to, 269, 311 ; 



INDEX. 



541 



notices of^ 407 ; anecdotes of, 410 ; j 
her children by Charles, 446. 

Hall, Jacob, the rope dancer, 118, 
356. 

Hamilton, James, intrigues with the 
Countess of Chesterfield, 144, 365 ; 
cured by her of his regard for Lady 
Castlemaine, 159 ; jealous of the 
Duke of York, 173; taken into 
I jord Chesterfield's confidence, 176; 
hears of Miss Stewart's legs, 179 ; 
writes to Lady Chesterfield, ib, ; 
advises Lord Chesterfield to take 
his wife to the country, 184 ; re- 
ceives a letter from Lady Chester- 
field, 193 ; follows her to her re- 
treat, 195 ; his adventure, 196 ; is 
duped and undeceived, 199 ; his at- 
tentions to Miss Stewart, 301 ; 
meets Grammont in a gaming-house 
303 ; persuaded to relinquish Miss 
Stewart, 304 ; holds two candles 
in his mouth, 306 ; causes of his 
love for her, 307. 

Hamilton, George, intrigues with 
Mrs. WetenhaU, 266 ; marries Miss 
Jennings, 320 ; notices of, 394, 

Hamilton, Anthony, memoir of, 1. 

Hamilton, Duke of, raises an army, 
421 ; killed at Worcester, 489. 

Hamilton, Miss, notice of, 109 ; at- 
tracts Grammont, 121, 357 ; plots 
against Lady Muskerry, and Miss 
Blague, 125 ; attracts the Duke 
of York, 137; proposal made her 
by Russell, 156 ; her portrait by 
Lely, 191 ; refuses the proposals of 
Tambonneau, 205 ; is loved by 
Talbot, 206 ; returns to London, 
262 ; visits Lord Muskerry, 268 ; 
dresses Lady Muskerry for the ball, 
271 ; marries Count Grammont, 
320. 

Harvey, Dr. W., anecdote of, 421. 

Henchman, Dr. his loyalty, 527. 

Henrietta of Orange, Charles II. 's 
proposals to, 430. 

Henrietta, daughter of Charles I., 
notices of, 292, 399. 



Henrietta Maria, the queen dowager, 
her state in France, 108, 346 ; re- 
turns to England, 61 ; asks Gram- 
mont concerning his equipage, 150. 

Henry IV. alluded to, 40. 

Henslow, Mr. his loyalty, 529. 

Hobart, Miss, notice of, 217; her 
character, 220 ; insinuations con- 
cerning her, 221 ; advises Miss 
Temple, 228 ; overheard by Miss 
Sarah, 236 ; frustrated by Ro- 
chester. 240 ; her disgrace, 245 ; in 
the confidence of the Duchess of 
York, 275. 

Hobbes, instructed Prince Charles, 
420. 

Hopitat, Mad. de, alluded to, 293. 

Hortensia, niece to Mazarine, pro- 
posals to, by Charles II., 430. 

Howard, Henry, notices of, 140,360. 

Howard, Thomas, a lover of Lady 
Shrewsburv 119, 356 ; his duel, 
120. 

Huddleston, Mr. John, alluded to, 
445,462, 499,511; changes the 
king's dress, 508 ; family of, 513. 

Hughes, Miss, intrigues with Prince 
Rupert, 269; notices of, 397. 

Humieres, Marquis de, commanded 
under Turenne, 87,331. 

Hurlston, Father, alluded to, 445. 

Hyde, Miss, acknowledged by the 
Duke of York, 106,340; taken 
with Jermyn, 108, 347 ; her mar- 
riage, 162. See Duchess of York. 

Hyde, Mrs., intrigues with Jermyij, 
118, 356. 

Hyde, Mr. Laurence, his loyalty, 5 29 ; 
his wife recognizes Charles, 530. 

Hyde Park, the promenade of Lon- 
don, 148, 365. 

Jennings, Miss, description of, 222 ; 
notices and anecdotes of, 383 ; re- 
fuses the Duke of York, 224 ; loved 
by Talbot, 247 ; off*ends him, 249 ; 
falls in love with Jermyn, 253 ; 
disguises herself as an orange-giri 
and visits Rochester with Miss 
Price, 257 ; meets Sidney and Kills- 



•r2 



INDEX. 



ijrew, 258; meets Bronnker, 259; 
illness of her lover, 278; refuses 
Talbot, 270 ; refuses Jermyn, 318 ; 
marries George Hamilton, 320. 

.lermyn, Henry, notice of, 108,347; 
intrigues with Miss Hyde, 118; 
intrigues with Lady Shrewsbury, 
119 ; his duel, 120 ; notice of, 1G3 ; 
his conquest of Miss Jennings, 
253 ; his wager, 277 ; refused by 
Miss Jennings, 318; marries a 
country girl, 320. 

Jones, Mr., intrigues with Mrs. Mid- 
dleton, 115. 

Katharine of Braganza, See Catha- 
rine. 

IGllegrew, Thomas, his observations 
on Miss Hyde, 163, 165; his 
cousin falls in love with Miss 
Warmestre, 212; marries her, 
215 ; employed by Rochester to 
undeceive Miss Temple, 240 ; 
meets Miss Jennings, 258 ; in- 
trigues with Lady Shrewsbury, 
296 ; wounded by an assassin, 
298 ; notices and anecdotes of, 
402. 

Killegrew, Elizabeth, notice of, 429. 

Kirk, Miss, See Warmestre. 

La Motte Houdancount, maid of 
honour, 101, 332, 513. 

La Motte, recognized by Grammont, 
88. 

Lane, Colonel, alluded to, 463, 501. 

Lane, Mrs., journeys with Charles 
IL, 464, 521 ; leaves Mr. Lassells 
with him, 468 ; parts with the 
king, 525. 

Lassells, Mr., accompanies Charles 
II. in his escape, 465, 521. 

La VeneriC; entertainment at, 60 ; 
description of, 328. 

Leiy, Sir Peter, paints Miss Hamil- 
ton's portrait, with other court 
beauties, 191 ; notices of, 374. 

Leopold, the Archduke, 85, 330. 

LcsJey, commander of the Scottish 



troops, 424 ; retires to Scotland, ) 

492. ! 

Leti, Gregorio, anecdote of, 449. 
Levingston, Miss, notice of, 217. 
L'Orme, Madame de, Grammont's 

story of, 200 ; notice of, 375. 
Louis XIII., notice of, 36, 323. 
Louis XIV., his marriage, 99, 332. 
Lussan, alluded to, 90. 
Luynes, alluded to, 204. 
Lyttleton, Sir Charles, his partiality 

for Miss Temple, 232 ; marries 

her, 320. 

Mallett, Eliz., alluded to, 320, 415. 
Mansel, provides a bark for Charles 

II. 's escape, 473, 531. 
Marshall, Mrs., loved by the Earl of \ 

Oxford, 230, 384. [ 

Mary, the Princess Dovrager, her 1 

death, 105, 339. •? 

Mary, the Princess Royal, is attracted 

by Jermyn, 108. 
Matta, his acquaintance with Count 

Grammont, 37 ; anecdotes of, 326 , 

his dream, 39 ; his jest with Count 

de Cameran, 53 ; goes to Turin \ 

with Grammont, 56 ; intrigues 

with the Marchioness de Senantes, 

58 ; sups with the Marquis, 72 ; 

sups with him a second time, 77 ; 

arrested by the contrivaince of 

Grammont, 79. 
Mazarine, Cardinal, his policy, 84, 

329 ;his death, 99. 
Mazarine, Peter, allusion to, 30, 97, 
Melo, Francisco de, alluded to, 109. ' 
Meneville, notices of, 101, 332. 
Middlesex, See Dorset. 
Middleton, Mrs., notice of, 109, 

355 ; intrigues with Grammont, 

115. 
Monk, effects the king's restoration, 

433. 
Monmouth, Duke of, natural son of 

the king, 294 ; retires from Lady 

Castlemaine, 295 ; marries, 296 ; 
notices and anecdotes of, 399 ; 
employs Sands to waylay Coven- 
try, 440. 



INDEX. 



543 



Montague, intrigues with Mrs. Mid- 
dleton, 121,351 ; made the queen's 
master of horse, 280 ; notices of, 
398. 

Montmorency, Duke of, notice of, 91, 
331. 

Muskerry, Lord, notice of, 127 ; his 
seat at Summer-hill, 268, 395 ; en- 
deavours to prevent his lady's 
dancing, 270. 

Muskerry, Lady, plotted against by 
Miss Hamilton, 125 ; notice of, 
358 ; goes to the ball, 134 ; her 
pregnancy, 270; dressed for the 
ball, 271 ; adventures at the ball, 
272. 

Newcastle, Earl of, governor of 

Prince Charles, 420. 
Newcastle, Duchess of, notice of, 135, 

359. ' 
Norton, Mr., harbours Charles IT., 

465, 521. 
Norton, Mrs., her miscarriage, 467. 

Gates, Titus, anecdotes of, 441. 
Ormond, Duke of, notice of, 106,341'; 

offended by Talbot, 207, 379. 
Ormonde, Marquis of, subdued by 

Cromwell, 423. 
Ossory, Earl of, notice of, 107, 165, 

344. 
Oxford, Earl of, his cruelty to 

Roxana, 230, 384; his unjust 

marriage, 231. 

Panetra, Countess de, alluded to, 
109. 

Pan, the college of, 40, 326. 

Peg, Catherine, notice of, 429; her 
children by Charles XL, 446. 

Penderells, family of, 456, 514 ; attend 
Charles on his escape, 507 ; on his 
restoration, 515; Richard, assists 
Charles in his escape, 459, 493 ; 
obtains him some victuals, 498 ; 
William, receives the Earl of 
Derby, 483 ; shaved the king, 504; 
loyalty of, 515 ; steals a sheep for 
the king, 505; John, assists Lord 
Wilmot, 499 ; Humphrey, alluded 



to, 504 ; the old good- wife, alluded 
to, 500. 
Penu, \Vm., anecdote of, 448. 
Pepys, his account of Charles II. 's 

escape from Worcester, 455. 
Peronne, notice of, 85, 330. 
Petre, Mr., accompanies Charles on 
his escape, 521 ; disappointed in 
meeting the ship, 525. 
Philips, Col.alluded to, 471, 472, 532. 
Pitchcroft, Mr., harbours Charles II., 

462. 
Pope, the butler at Mr. Norton's, 
465 ; discovers the king, 466, 524. 
Portsmouth, Duchess of, her children 

by Charles IL, 446. 
Portuguese attendants on the Infanta, 

109. 
Potter, John, alluded to, 470. 
Poussattin, story of, 152. 
Price, Miss, her variance with Miss 
Blague, 131, 136; notice of, 217, 
359 ; provokes Lord Rochester, 
218 ; her love for Dongan, and 
her love trinkets discovered, 219 : 
her acquaintance with Miss Jen- 
nings disliked by Talbot, 249 ; 
her maid visits Rochester, 256; 
disguises herself as an orange-girl, 
and visits him with Miss Jennings, 
257 ; they meet Sidney and Kille- 
grew, 258 ; meet Brounker, 259. 
Progers, notices of, 217, 381 
Pyrenees, peace of, 99, 331. 

Richeheu, Cardinal de, notice of, 36 ; 
Hume's description of, 324. 

Richmond, Duke of, falls in love with 
Miss Stewart, 211; notice of, 
380 ; his intrigue with Miss Stew- 
art discovered by the king, 313; 
banished the court, 315 ; marries 
her, 320. 

Robarts, Lord, his character, 170. 

Robarts, Lady, intrigues with the 
Duke of York, 170; notice of, 
368 ; taken by her husband to 
Wales, 171. 

Roberts, Mrs., notice of, 109. 

Rochester, Lord, exposes Lord 



544 



INDKX. 



Cbcsterfield iii ballads, 189 ; no- 
tices and anecdotes of, 370 ; is 
provoked by Miss Price, 218 ; in- 
trigues with Miss Ba<;ot, 221 ; in- 
trigues with Miss Temple, 22G ; 
she is warned of him by Miss 
Ilobart, 232 ; hears of Miss Ho- 
bart's falsehoods from ^liss Sarah, 
237; meets Miss Temple, 238; 
undeceives her by means of Kille- 
grew, 240 ; banished the court, 
24 G ; his residence in the city, 

254 ; sets up for a German doctor, 

255 ; visited by the chambermaids 
of the maids of honour, 256 ; mar- 
ries a melancholy heiress, 320 ; in- 
trigues with Miss Barry, 246, 385 ; 
his speech as a mountebank, on 
Tower-hill, 387; his jest on 
Cliarles IL, 447. 

Rowley, nickname of Charles II., 

450'. 
Roxana, an actress loved by the Earl 

of Oxford, 230 ; her pretended 

marriage, 231, 384. 
Royale, Madame, her disposition, 57 ; 

orders Matta and the Marquis de 

Senantes to be arrested, 79. 
Rupert, Prince, notices of, 129, 358 ; 

intrigues with Miss Hughes, 269 ; 

sent to Guinea, 317 ; anecdotes 

of, Sec, 396 ; quarrels with Cole- 

pepper, 422. 
Russells, the uncle and nephew, rivals 

of Grammont, 137 ; notices of, 

360 ; uncle, proposes to Miss 

Hamilton, 156 ; leaves the court, 

158. 
Russell, Lord, his execution, 443. 
Rye-house plot, discovery of, 443. 



Saucourt, his amour, 293. 

Savoy, the Duchess of, gives an en- 
tertainment, 60. 

Scoto, Lady Anne, notices of, 295, 
402. 

Sedley, Sir Charles, exposes Lord 
Chesterfield in ballads, 189 ; no- 
tices and anecdotes of, 372. 



Selleck, his message to Charles II., 
528. 

Senantes, INIarquis de, is piqued with 
Matta, 61 ; invites Matta to sup- 
per, 70 ; invites Matta and Gram- 
mont to supper, 77 ; arrested by 
the contrivance of Grammont, 79. 

Senantes, Marchioness de, her in- 
trigue with Matta, 58 ; her ron- 
deau, 66 ; listens to Count Gram- 
mont, 68. 

Shaftesbury, Lord, anecdotes of, 440. 
451. 

Shrewsbury, Lord, killed by Buck- 
ingham in a duel, 299. 

Shrewsbury, Lr.dy, notices of, 109, 
349; her lovers, 119; intrigues 
with Killegrew, 296 ; with the 
Duke of Buckingham, 297. 

Sidney, the beau, notice of, 107, 346 ; 
follows Miss Jennings,* 259 ; in- 
trigues with the Duchess of York, 
275 ; appointed master of horse to 
her, 281. 

Sidney, Algernon, his execution, 443. 

Silva, Pedro de, called Peter of the 
Wood, 109. 

Silvius, Mr., marries Mad. de 'la 
Garde, 216 ; notice of, 380. ^ 

Snead, jNIr., brings the Earl of Derby 
to Boscobel, 483. 

Southampton, Lord, offers his ser- 
vices to Charles 1 1., 473. 

Southesk, Lord, his jealousy, 167 ; 
his revenge on his wife, 169. 

Southesk, Lady, intrigues with the 
Duke of York, 167 ; discovered by 
her husband, 169. 

Spring Gardens, notice of, 119, 357. 

St. Albans, Earl of, notice of, 106, 
342 ; anecdote of, 448. 

Staunton, Mr., his sheep stolen by 
Penderell, 505 ; refuses to receive 
payment, 514. 

St. Chaumont, Mad. de, recals Gram- 
mont, 283 ; her indiscretion, 292. 

Stewart, Miss, notice of, 109 ; loved 
by the king, 117, 141 ; her child- 
ishness, 142 ; her hopes on the 
death of the queen, 145 ; desires to 



INDEX. 



545 



appear in the king's carriage, 149 
discussion about her legs, 178 
jealousy of Miss Jennings, 225 . 
aUuded to, 269 ; meridian of her 
glory, 296 ; goes with the court to 
Bristol, 300; attracts the atten- 
tions of Hamilton, 301, 304 ; her 
childish amusements, 306 ; her cold- 
ness to the king, 311 ; discovered 
with the Duke of Richmond by the 
king, 313 ; receives pardon from 
the queen, 315 ; marries the Duke 
of Richmond, 320 ; her marriage 
related by Evelyn, 414 ; her form 
representing Britannia, 451. 

St. Evremont, his description of 
Grammont, 35, 111, 352 ; his ad- 
vice to Grammont, 112, 138 ; his 
solid wit, 205. 

St. Germain, Madame de, intrigues 
with Grammont, 58. 

Stillingiieet, anecdote of, 443. 

Summer-hill, the seat of Lord Mus- 
kerry, 395. 

Suze, Countess de la, notices of, 204, 
377. 

Symons, Mr., harbours the king, 531. 

Taafe, Lord, intrigues with Miss 
Warmestre, 211 ; forsakes her, 
213 ; notice of, 380. 

Talbot, his remarks on Miss Hyde, 
163, 164, 367 ; attends the Duke 
of York on a visit to Lady 
Southesk, 168 ; falls in love with 
Miss Hamilton, 206 ; notices of, 
378 ; offends the Duke of Ormond, 
207, 379 ; sent to the Tower, 208 ; 
loses 300 guineas to Grammont, 
ib. ; returns from Ireland, 246 ; 
attracts Miss Boynton, 247 ; falls 
in love with Miss Jennings, ib. ; 
advises her to beware of Miss 
Price, 249 ; renews his acquaint- 
ance with her, 278 ; marries Miss 
Boynton, 320. 

Talbot, Peter, notices of, 207, 379. 

, Thomas, notices of, 207,379. 

, Lord, alluded to, 492, 497. 

Tambonneau, attempts to rival 
2 N 



Grammont, 204 ; proposals to 
Miss Hamilton, 205 ; notice of, 
377. 

Tanes, Count de, notice of, 57. 

Tauravedez, See Silva. 

Temple, Miss, description of, 222 ; 
notice of, 384 ; her wit and per- 
son, 226 ; intrigues with Lord 
Rochester, 227 ; acquaintance with 
Miss Hobart, ib. ; warned by her 
against Rochester, 228 ; discovers 
that she has been deceived, 240 ; 
adventure with Miss Hobart at 
midnight, 244 ; her maid visits 
Rochester, 256 ; marries Littleton, 
320. 

Termes, valet to Grammont, 124; 
sent by Grammont to France, 
129 ; his story of the quicksand, 
133 ; his roguery discovered, 287 ; 
his explanation, 290. 

Tettershall, Captain of the bark by 
which Charles II. escaped, 473, 
533. 

Thanet, Lord, notice of, 129, 355. 

Thomas, Prince, commander of the 
army, 36, 324. 

Tombs, Mr., Charles II/s adven- 
ture at his house, 523. 

Toulongeon, brother of Grammont, 
notices of, 139, 141, 360. 

Trino, siege of, 36, 37, 324 ; surren- 
ders, 55. 

Turenne, Viscount, notice of, 37 ; 
is visited by Grammont, 54 ; com- 
mands the army against Conde, 
86 ; defeats Conde, 93 ; Voltaire's 
character of, 325. 

Vendome, Caesar de, notices of, 40, 

326. 
Viner, Sir Robert, anecdote of, 449. 

Walters, Lucy, notice of, 429 ; her 

children by Charles, 446. 
Walton, Isaac, alluded to, 498, 
Warmestre, Miss, attracts Gram- 

mont, 116 ; brought to bed, 139 ; 

intrigues with Lord Taafe, 211 ; 

loved by Killegrew, 212 ; brought 



54G 



INDKX. 



to bed, 214 ; forsaken by Taafe, 
and marries Killegrew, 215. 
Warner, Sir John, anecdote of, 451. 
Wells, Miss, intrigues with the 

king, 216. 
Wetenhall, Mr., his ecclesiastical 
history, 2G2, 393. 

, Mrs., a relation of Miss 

Hamilton, 262 ; goes to London, 
265 ; intrigues with Hamilton, 
266; returns to Peckham, 267; 
visits Lord Muskerry, 268 ; notice 
of, 393. 
Whitgreave, Mr., harbours Lord 

Wilmot, 500 ; family of, 513. 
WilUam, Prince of Orange, anecdote 

of, 441. 
Wilmot, Lord, his escape after the 
Battle of Worcester, 458 ; har- 
boured by Mr. Pitchcroft, 461 ; 
his loyal devotion, 509 ; assisted 
by John Penderell, 499 ; meets the 
kmg at Bentley, 520 ; seeks means 
for Charles's escape, 529 ; escapes 
to France, 475, 533. 
Windham, Frank, his advice to 
Charles II., 463 ; harbours the 
king, 524. 
Woolfe, Mr., harbours Charles II., 

460, 502. 
Wren, Sir C, anecdote of, 450. 



Yarborough, Sir Thos., marries Miss 
Blague, 218 ; Yates, assists Charles 
in his escape, 498. 
York, Duke of, commanded under 
Turenne, 87, 331 ; his character, 
105, 340; his attentions to Miss 
Hamilton, 137 ; falls in love with 
Lady Chesterfield, 158; his mar- 
riage, 162, 367 ; intrigues with 
Lady Southesk, 167; discovered 
by her husband, 1 69 ; intrigues with 
Lady Robarts, 170; with Miss 
Brooks, 171; fondness for the 
guitar, 174; criticises Miss Stew- 
art's legs, 178; renews his atten- 
tions to Miss Hamilton, 191 ; in- 
trigues with Lady Denham, ib. ; 
proposals to Miss Jennings, 223 ; 
journeys to the other side of Lon- 
don, 273, 398 ; intrigues with 
Miss Churchill, 274 ; sends to 
Charles on his escape to France 
434. * 

York, Duchess of, notices of, 110, 
352; description of, 162; employs 
Sir Peter Lciy, 191 ; her maids or 
honour, 217; defends Miss Ho- 
bart, 245 ; fondness for eating, 
274 ; intrigues with Sidney, 275. 



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